Date: Fri, 3 Sep 2004 17:01:54 -0400
From: John Ellison <paradegi@rogers.com>
Subject: Aurora Tapestry - Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Only In America!

Phelps and his crew of incestuous idiots, evolutionary U-turns and assorted
whacko hangers on, can picket gay funerals; Dr. Goebbels' slug-like protégé
can ask for and receive press credentials, and sit smirking in the balcony;
television evangelists with blow-dried hair and $2,000.00 suits can quote
Leviticus, Deuteronomy and St. Paul; BUT YOU MUST NOT READ what follows
because it contains/or perhaps contains mildly graphic depictions of sex
between consenting males. YOU MUST BE of "legal" age - whatever that is -
before you can even consider opening the file! Politicians can whine and
wring their hands and tell you how misunderstood they are and change their
minds on any issue at least six times, BUT YOU MUST NOT download, print a
copy or in any manner possess a copy of this publication because it just
might be illegal for you to do so! Move on, then, dear friends, to a safer,
more "correct" site and preserve your morals and guard your soul! ONLY IN
AMERICA!

Aurora Tapestry is a novel that reflects the mores, customs, and
demographics of 1976. I am fully aware of the prevailing rubbish in the gay
community and the unfortunate influence of special interest groups.
However, I am writing about a different time, a different place, and a
different world. DO NOT send me whining e-mails or beat me metaphorically
around the head, face, neck and ears because you are a slave to fashion or
gullible enough to subscribe to big lies. I have been around the Horn too
many times to accept with anything approaching patience, flames or
misinformed "social" do-gooders.

My thanks to all who wrote with their comments and to those who "reviewed"
my first published work. I knew I was good, but not that good! :) "The
Phantom of Aurora" is available as a two-volume novel through the
PublishAmerica Website and Amazon, although Amazon seems to be offering
each part as a separate purchase. Caveat Emptor.

My thanks as always to Peter whose editing skills grow with every chapter I
write. His insight and refusal to let me get away with anything that is
less than perfect makes everything I write much better.

I do try to answer all e-mails (except flames) although it may take me a
day or three. Work has a habit of interfering with work. Please contact me
at paradegi@rogers.com


Aurora Tapestry - Chapter 19


" . . . I am The Phantom of Aurora!"
	Tyler, his eyes widened by surprise, pulled back, turned The
Phantom around and stared at him. "You . . . you . . .?" he tried to ask,
his face pale in the dim light cast by the fixture over the door to the
barracks block.
	Before Tyler could say anything further through the open window of
the Chiefs Mess came a loud, shocked voice. "Madonna!"
	The Phantom could not prevent himself from snickering as he
remembered his visits to the Chiefs Mess. "Does he still say that when he
. . .?" he asked between chuckles.
	"He sure does!" Tyler croaked as he struggled to regain his
composure. His shock at The Phantom's sudden declaration was quickly
replaced by embarrassment from what he had just said.
	Val's head popped out of the open window. His dark features were
scowling. "You!" he seemed to accuse. Then he grinned wide. "Phantom, you
little devil!"
	The Phantom looked contrite as he said, "Yes, Val, I'm the
one. Please, I'm sorry for what I did. I . . ."
	Val's smile widened further. "Yeah, you sure did. Now get in here!"
	"I can't go in there," protested The Phantom. "Mark and Tony are in
there!"
	"Okay, I'm coming out then!" Val disappeared from the window and
almost immediately he appeared in the Staff Barracks doorway, magnificently
naked.
	"Val, you have no clothes on!" exclaimed The Phantom in a hoarse
whisper. While he was as shocked as Tyler that he had actually divulged
what was, to him, his greatest secret, he could still admire a frankly
beautiful young man. The Phantom smiled wanly. "Not that I'm complaining,
mind you, because man, you are one Italian Stallion!"
	"Yeah, I am," agreed Val. He sat on the stoop and gestured for
Tyler to join him. When Tyler was sitting beside him Val fixed his eyes on
The Phantom. "Okay, tell!"
	"Uh, Val, you're not making this easy," responded The Phantom,
unable to take his eyes away from Val's wonderfully proportioned
genitals. "I mean, shit, you are . . ."
	"Yeah, I am," agreed Val with an easy gracelessness. "I got it, and
I'm flaunting it." He leaned forward and pointed his finger at The
Phantom. "Now, tell! Everything!"
	Speaking softly in fits and starts, and with no aplomb at all, The
Phantom outlined his litany of sins. He did not name names - he was
determined to never reveal the true scope of his foraging - and even though
Val asked probing, deliberate questions, he provided no descriptions and
left Val's curiosity even more aroused. The Phantom was again in tears when
he finished.
	"Well, I will be damned," said Val presently. Then he laughed
delightedly. "But you know, if you hadn't come sneaking into the Mess, I'd
still be sleeping alone and Tyler would still be a virgin!"
	"You don't seem to understand how serious this is," groused The
Phantom. "I just told you something that no man would ever admit to another
and you make a joke out of it!" He gave Val a disgusted look. His
confession was not going the way he thought it would. "I sucked your dick!"
	"And made a damn fine job of it!" retorted Val. He continued to
laugh at The Phantom's discomfort. "Look, Phantom, yes, what you did was
wrong, but you don't hear me complaining, now do you?"
	"But . . ."
	"Phantom, I could have screamed rape and what would that have got
me?" Val shook his head. "Now, I admit that I was surprised, the first
time, but damn it, I enjoyed every minute of it! And I wanted more!"
	"You got more!" sniped Tyler. "Hell, you lay back and moaned and
groaned to beat the band!"
	"Fuckin' aye," replied Val, not at all disturbed by Tyler's
scowling, thunderous look. He regarded The Phantom. "You showed me
something I never realized existed. You also showed me the real me! If it
wasn't for what you did I would not have . . ." He turned to look at Tyler,
the warmth of his smile evidence of his deep love for the copper-haired
Master-At-Arms. "I would not have given a gift of gold."
	"And I would not have accepted it," said Tyler, his voice as deep
and warm as Val's. He looked at The Phantom. "It's over and done,
Phantom. Think no more about it."
	For some reason The Phantom felt robbed. This was not the way he
thought his "General Confession" should be received and he grumbled away
about it.
	Val, who could not understand what the fuss was about, suddenly
reached out and pulled The Phantom forward, at the same time pushing down
his boxers. Then, as The Phantom squalled in protest, Val sucked The
Phantom's penis into his mouth, licked the head of The Phantom's dick, and
then released him. Val looked up at The Phantom, whose face was a picture
of outraged indignation, licked his lips, and whispered, "There! You sucked
one of the only three circumcised Sicilian penises in Saskatoon. I've
sucked the dick of the Phantom Wanker of Aurora! We're even!"
	The Phantom tried to take a step back but since his underwear was
bunched around his ankles, he ended up in a heap on the dirt of the
barracks yard. "God damn it, Val, I'm supposed to be asking for
forgiveness, not getting my dick sucked!"
	"You're the one making a big deal out of it," retorted Val. "And be
quiet! You're making enough noise to wake the dead!"
	The Phantom looked around quickly but saw no curious face peeking
around the edge of the slightly ajar door. All he needed was for a curious
cadet wondering what was going on in the barracks yard. He struggled to
pull up his underpants and mumbled a weak apology.
 	Val grinned at The Phantom and announced, smiling broadly, "I am
not sorry you sucked my dick, and I am not going to forgive something that
doesn't need forgiving!" He stood up and reached out his hand. "Now come
on, I need a drink." He turned to Tyler, who was staring open mouthed at
his lover. "Unless you want to return the favour Phantom gave you as well?"
	Struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed, Tyler shook
his head and allowed himself to be led into the Chiefs Mess. Mark and Tony
were lying on the top bunks, sleeping soundly. Val raised a finger to his
lips and then rummaged in the bottom drawer of his locker. He pulled out a
bottle of grappa, waved it at The Phantom and Tyler and then led them out
of the Mess and into the washplace.
	Val sensed that whatever The Phantom needed to do, whatever he
needed to say, required a place where he could not be overheard, and the
washplace, with its thick, triple-brick walls and heavy wood doors would
keep their conversation from disturbing the sleeping denizens of the
adjacent Gunroom. It was a perfect venue for privacy and no one would be
near it - or so Val thought - until the bugle roused the sleeping cadets.
	After telling The Phantom and Tyler to wait, Val left the
washplace, returning with some Melmac cups purloined earlier from the Mess
Hall.
	"Okay, Phantom, you want to tell me what this is really all about?"
Val asked as he poured them all a small drink. He settled himself on the
long, battered, wooden bench that flanked the bulkhead opposite the
showerheads, sitting with his back against the tiled wall, and asked again,
"Well?"
	Sitting beside Val, The Phantom took a tentative drink of the
clear, liquid fire, grimaced, gagged, and then replied. "There is an Order
of Knights that have one purpose, and that is to protect and defend
gays. The Gunner is the Chancellor of the Order, and he was supposed to
arrange for a ceremony where I would become a Candidate Knight."
	"Which didn't happen because he was called away for his aunt's
funeral," supplied Tyler as he committed sacrilege, diluting the grappa
with cold tap water, and then joined the other two on the bench, sitting on
the other side of Val.
	"Yes." The Phantom looked thoughtful, and then turned to face
Val. "As I explained to Tyler, part of the ceremony is something called the
General Confession. I have to confess that I'm a sinner, the idea being, I
guess, for the candidate to be free of sin."
	Val, who had not bothered to put on any underwear, reached down and
scratched his sleeping genitals. "A noble sentiment," he offered with a
smile, "but hardly required so far as I'm concerned."
	"My sneaking into the Mess and sucking you off, without your
permission, it doesn't bother you?" asked The Phantom, amazed at Val's
attitude.
	"I suppose if I was some sort of a religious fanatic it might,"
returned Val. "But since I was enjoying what you were doing, I didn't see
any reason to complain." He deliberately leered at The Phantom and offered
the pale pink head of his penis. "And you do a mean blow job!"
	"Really, Val," spat Tyler, blushing. "You can be downright
disgusting at times!"
	"Balls," sniffed Val. "Are you going to stand there and complain
that what Phantom did to you was not enjoyable, that you didn't just spread
your legs and moan and wiggle?"
	Tyler's blush deepened. "Well, yes, I guess I did do that, because,
as you say, Phantom does a mean blow job and . . ."
	"And nothing," growled Val. He looked at The Phantom. "You did
wrong, yes, but in the doing of it you gave me, and Tyler, and the other
guys a hell of a good time. Nobody is complaining, except that they're not
getting it anymore, and nobody wants you to bare your soul."
	"Val, I appreciate the sentiment, but damn it, I did wrong, and I
so want to make amends," protested The Phantom. Laying aside his cup, he
looked first at Val, and then at Tyler. "We are brothers. I realize that
now. Brothers take care of each other and never, ever, harm each
other. They are honest with each other, and open! I was thinking about
Sylvain, and Greg, and I realized that I could not call them my brothers if
I had this . . . stain on my soul. I confessed everything to The Gunner,
but it wasn't the same. I didn't do to him what I did to you, or the
others. I had to . . ."
	Val glanced at Tyler, who stared at The Phantom and then closed
both hands around The Phantom's shoulders. "Listen, Phantom, and please,
don't say anything until I've finished."
	Nodding, The Phantom agreed to Tyler's request.
	"Phantom, all right, you did things that are, in some ways
unforgivable. You came into the barracks and yes, you molested them." He
held up his hand abruptly. "But, no one complained, no one lodged a
complaint, and Val, who was one of the cadets you 'visited', well the only
thing he's bitched about is that you stopped coming back! I can only assume
that the others you visited would agree with him!"
	"But . . ." The Phantom began to protest.
	"Shush" ordered Tyler. "You promised to keep your gate closed!"
	Once again The Phantom nodded.
	"Now, having done that, you then went out and did something so
horrible that it was wonderful! You risked your good name, your reputation,
your very existence, everything, when you took care of Little Big Man. You
demeaned yourself, you debased yourself, and you seduced him into revealing
what he really was!"
	Val's hand joined Tyler's. "And two days ago you risked your life
to save three of your friends, your brothers. You didn't hesitate, you
acted, and in the acting you saved Matt, and Joey, and Randy."
	"There is nothing to forgive, Phantom," said Tyler firmly. "So far
as I am concerned, no sin, no act, you might have committed, needs to be
forgiven." He smiled softly. "I've read Shakespeare, I've read the play,
and I know the passage. Be you ne'er so vile, you are still my brother. You
have said it for Greg, and now you must say it for yourself."
	"And while I'm no religious scholar," Val chimed in as he squatted
down and rested his back against the tiled wall of the washplace, "it would
seem to me that a 'General Confession' is a blanket confession, short on
details, long on penance." He snickered. "Mind you, the details might be
interesting."
	"Perhaps we don't need to know them," retorted Tyler, glaring at
Val pointedly.
	The Phantom laughed quietly. "Well, then, forgive me, my brothers,
for I have sinned. Against you, and against others."
	Val made an airy, exaggerated Sign of The Cross in The Phantom's
general direction. "You're forgiven. Now, for your penance, you must give!
Details, names, dates, who was a moaner and who a groaner." He grinned
salaciously. "Who was a basketball player and who was a hockey star?"
	Tyler glared at his friend and lover. "Val!" he gasped, even more
shocked than when Phantom had told him that he was the night visitor.
	"Confession is good for the soul," intoned Val pontifically, "and
if you were Catholic you'd know it!" He deliberately rubbed the smooth,
warm skin on The Phantom's thigh. "Come on, Phantom, I have a dirty mind
. . ."
	"And the curiosity of a horny tomcat!" finished Tyler, a disgusted
look on his face.
	"I manage to set you to purring!" retorted Val. He turned to look
at The Phantom. "Come on, Phantom, you're drinking my booze! You could at
least tell us how all this started!"
	A low, rueful chuckle escaped The Phantom's lips. "I got angry!" he
blurted. "I had . . . a friend and . . . please don't laugh, but he
wouldn't, well, you know, he just wouldn't . . ."
	"Blow you? Let you blow him?" supplied Val. He took a sip of his
drink and looked at The Phantom slyly. He was not really all that
interested in whom The Phantom had visited, or the details, and his friend
might not realize it, but Phantom needed to talk about what he had done,
needed to get everything off of his chest. Val was determined that before
they returned to their bunks Phantom would tell as much as he needed to
tell to cleanse his conscience.
	Squirming with embarrassment, The Phantom took a sip of his own
drink, and nodded reluctantly. "My friend just wanted to jerk me while I
jerked him, and he would never allow me to finish him off. When he got
close he'd tell me and I'd have to let go!"
	Much to Tyler's continuing disgust, Val continued his salacious
assault. "Bummer! Nothin' better that another guy's hand on your dick when
you start shootin'!"
	Giggling despite his discomfort, The Phantom continued. "Anyway, I
decided to sneak over here and see what I could find."
	"You came looking for dick," Val pointed out. "This place is full
of dicks!"
	"In more ways than one," snarled Tyler as he glared sternly at Val.
	Ignoring Tyler, Val raised a questioning eyebrow at The Phantom.
	Placing his cup of booze on the bench beside him, The Phantom
leaned forward and clasped his knees. "At first, to be honest, I was just
. . . curious. I'd never fooled around before, except with my friend, and
well, I was curious."
	"And?" prompted Val.
	"I started last summer. The first time it happened the guy woke up
and the Duty Hand came calling!" The Phantom shuddered at the memory of his
very first nocturnal visit to Heron Spit. "I thought for sure that I was
dead meat!"
	Tyler looked curiously at The Phantom. "The guy woke up?"
	"Yes. He just looked around, looked down at his crotch and then
went back to sleep. Then the Duty Hand came in and I rolled under the bunk
and hell and sheeit!" He looked directly at Tyler. "Nothing happened!"
	Nodding, Tyler confirmed The Phantom's statement. He scratched his
chin reflectively. "Do you remember Larry Chambers?" he asked Val.
	"Sure. He was the Master-At-Arms last year. Skinny guy, horny all
the time, no ass to speak off, but a good head," returned Val.
	"Well, Larry gave me a good turnover when I saw him in Victoria. He
never mentioned anything about some guy going around doing the cadets and
Larry might be a flake but he knew his business. Nobody reported anything!"
	"That's why I came back," admitted The Phantom. "I waited,
expecting the MPs to be all over the place, but nothing happened. The cadet
I played with never reported anything, and neither did the Duty Hand." He
looked at Tyler. "And even after I'd come back, and was actually wanking
guys, nobody ever said a word. They talked about having a wet dream and
made a big joke out of it, but they never claimed that somebody whacked
them off and they never made a report about it!"
	Val snickered. "Of course not! If you wake up with a strange hand
on your dick you either scream blue murder or lie back and enjoy it! If
you're a horny, normal guy, you don't want to fuck up a good thing!"
	"One of the Twins, I forget which, said much the same thing,"
responded The Phantom dryly.
	"The Twins know?" asked Tyler, his eyes wide. "They know about
you?"
	"And they know that I did you, and Val!" The Phantom grinned at
Tyler. "They managed to catch me, sort of, in the act and Cory told me that
he knew something was going on, what with all the banging you were doing on
the bulkhead."
	"Me? I banged on the bulkhead?" Tyler's eyes widened. "Oh, shit,"
he swore quietly.
	"I told you that you make too much noise," sniped Val. "I'm
surprised the whole Gunroom didn't wake up whenever you shot your load!" He
gave The Phantom a nudge. "So, did you get to the Twins in your travels?"
	"I did not visit the Twins, Val," replied The Phantom
truthfully. Neither Val nor Tyler had any need to know about his later
relationship with the Twins. "One night Cory heard Tyler again and woke up
Todd. They followed me and caught me."
	Val suspected that the Twins would not just have settled for a
"General Confession" but decided to let the matter drop. "You said that you
started last summer?"
	"Yes. All I did was wank some guys. This summer I started out doing
the same thing, just wanking them, but then, well, I got curious about what
it would be like to suck a cock, and I . . . I did."
	"Sucked a cock?" asked Tyler rhetorically, his curiosity now
aroused. He was intrigued that not once in the two summers that The Phantom
had been coming onto the Spit, had anyone complained. "But then," he
thought, "I never complained so why should I expect the others to?"
	Nodding, The Phantom continued. "Last summer it was just -
experimenting? Curiosity? I don't know what to call it. I know I enjoyed
doing it, and the guys I did it to enjoyed me doing it." He shrugged
expressively. "Last year it was all about me. I derived pleasure from
jerking guys. What I did was impersonal, and there were no feelings behind
what I did."
	"Other than sex," Val pointed out. "What happened? Obviously
something happened to change the way you feel. If what you did was so
impersonal, just curiosity and experimentation, what happened?"
	The Phantom picked up his drink and took a small sip, perhaps to
delay his answer as much as giving him another measure of courage to
continue. He ducked his head and smiled shyly. "You guys," he whispered.
	"Us?" Val looked at Tyler and then back at The Phantom. "What did
we do?"
	"The generic, all-inclusive 'you guys'," replied The Phantom. "At
first, yes, it was all impersonal, a wank, a suck, and one happy cadet when
I left each guy. But . . ." he held up his hand. "I started to care about
the cadets I visited. I realized that some of them needed, wanted me to
visit them. I became friends with them and damn it, I felt great, bringing
them pleasure. They were my friends and I wanted them to be as happy as I
was."
	Tyler blushed as he admitted, "You certainly made me happy!"
	"And I'm the tomcat!" sniffed Val. "How many guys did you make
happy?" he asked The Phantom.
	Sighing deeply, The Phantom replied, "At first, a lot. I sometimes
did three guys most nights." He shrugged. "The number varied and at first
all I ever did was masturbate them. Most of them, I think, knew what I was
doing."
	"They did," insisted Val. "I woke up the minute you touched me."
	"The first time I, well, I thought it was a dream, or I tried to
convince myself that it was a dream, but eventually I realized what had
happened," said Tyler. He blew out a long breath. "And when I realized what
was happening to me, I wanted it, I wanted it again and again!"
	"Of course you did," insisted Val. "I know I wanted it again!
Madonna, Phantom, you are one good friend!"
	Laughing at Val's not so veiled compliment, The Phantom
continued. "Anyway, I thought that it was all just making guys happy. I
didn't count on becoming close to them. I didn't count on being accepted as
one of you. And when you and the others took me on that sailing trip I
couldn't go on. You were my friends, and friends don't go sneaking around
in the night doing the nasty with their friends."
	"Speaking of which, did you?" asked Val expectantly.
	"Did I what?"
	"Do the nasty!"
	The Phantom turned red. "No, not with . . . No. All I did was
either masturbate them, or blow them. I could have, but I didn't."
	"But you have, haven't you?" Val put his arm around The Phantom's
shoulder. "Come on, the truth."
	The Phantom drained the remaining drops of his drink and then
gasped and coughed. With a grimace that reflected both the searing effect
of the grappa and his discomfort with the recollection, he uttered, "Paul
Greene," He had no intention of compromising the Twins, or Ray, or
Matt. Let Val and Tyler think what they wanted to think. "I fucked Paul
Greene." He stared evenly at Val. "I am not proud of what I did, but it had
to be done."
	"I was there," Tyler said quietly. "I'm trying to understand the
full extent of what you did, and why you did it."
	"Paul Greene was, and is danger," returned The Phantom
forcefully. "He would have destroyed your life, my life, Val's, hell,
anyone who crossed him! You know it, Tyler, you read his letters!"
	"What letters?" asked Val.
	"He doesn't know?" The Phantom looked at Tyler. "You never told him
about the letters?"
	"No. I didn't tell anyone else. I felt that the fewer the people
who knew about them the less the chance that word would get out." He
reached out and caressed Val's cheek. "I should have told you, but I
didn't. At the time we weren't together and I didn't know how you would
react. Please don't be angry with me."
	"We'll talk later," replied Val in a mock-threatening tone. "Now
then, Phantom, the whole truth about Paul."
	Nodding, The Phantom said, "Paul Greene is a terrorist, a thug, in
training. He knows no loyalty except to whatever ideology he follows. I
believe that he will, one day, kill if he has to. Paul Greene will destroy
you, Tyler, you Val, the Twins, anyone and anything because he hates! He
feeds on his hatred and he devours the power he thinks his hatred gives
him."
	"You've given this a whole lot of thought, haven't you?" asked
Tyler, suddenly seeing one of the reasons why Phantom was a natural leader.
	"I've thought about it. I've lain awake at night thinking about
Paul Greene, and the way he is," confirmed The Phantom. "What I did was no
random act. I planned it, and I executed it. It needed to be done, if only
to deter him from his course of action."
	"Which was?" asked Val.
	"Paul knew, knows, that any hint of homosexuality is, and will be,
looked upon as an abomination. By making false accusations Paul created an
aura of fear! He knew what he was doing. He knew it and he used the way
people think about gays! By creating that fear, Paul gained, at least in
his own mind, power!"
	"But I thought that he was here to recruit adherents to his
cockamamie cause!" returned Val. "He wanted recruits!"
	"He also wanted power!" countered The Phantom. "He got off on
power. He might also have thought that by destroying us that he was
undermining the system, the Corps of Cadets, but deep down he got off on
power. He thought to use the fear of exposure to make us bend to his will,
his power!"
	Suddenly, The Phantom felt like lashing out. He clenched his fists
and his hand flashed, sending the indestructible Melmac cup flying through
the air to bounce off the tiled wall of the washplace.
	Both Tyler and Val jumped involuntarily at the force of The
Phantom's unexpected outburst. "Holy Jesus, Phantom," exclaimed Tyler.
	"I am sick of it!" growled The Phantom, ignoring the
Master-At-Arms. "Every day I read the papers, every day I watch the news
and every day some nut bar Palestinian is blowing away people, and all in
the name of Allah! Some African dictator sends his troops into some butt
fuck village in the middle of the jungle and massacres the people, just
because they don't belong to his tribe! Planes are hijacked, people are
killed, and nobody does anything! Nobody seems to understand that you can't
talk to these people, you can't rationalize with these people, and you
can't negotiate with these people! God Damn It!"
	"Please, Phantom, calm down!" Tyler stroked The Phantom's
leg. "It's not so bad as all that!"
	"Hell and sheeit!" exploded The Phantom. "Not you as well!"
	"What? What do you mean?" asked Tyler, his eyes wide at the
vehemence, the fire in The Phantom.
	"It is as bad as all that!" responded The Phantom. "People are
dying and the politicians dither and dally and discuss. Ottawa wrings its
hands and cries crocodile tears and sends some dickhead scampering to the
Hudson River Debating Society to hold 'talks'!"
	The Phantom was angrier than he had ever been in his life. "Trudeau
stands in the House of Commons and spouts about following in the footsteps
of that 'Great Peacemaker' Lester B. Pearson, and all the trained seals
bark and clap their flippers! He's following in footsteps all right! He's
following in the footsteps of Neville Chamberlain and Daladier! Appease,
pay them off, don't upset the bad guys because they might come here! Keep
it over there, Lord, Keep it over there!"
	"Now Phantom, you're exaggerating," temporized Tyler.
	"I am not!" The Phantom glared at his friend and grimaced. "Gerald
Ford, the President of the fucking United States, the leader of the fucking
free world, stands there and says we aren't fighting wars that are not our
business! Washington is filled with yellow-streaked liberals who would
rather turn their backs than show their balls! Nobody understands that you
have to deal with terrorists, with thugs, with your fists! They fight dirty
so you fight dirtier! And I am one fucking dirty fighter!"
	"I think you proved that," observed Val dryly.
	"Fuckin' aye," returned The Phantom. "What pisses me off is that
nobody learns by their mistakes! They can't see that you have to deal with
people like Paul Greene in a way that gets their attention and also shows
them that you won't allow them to go on they way they are. Paul would have
destroyed us all and laughed in our faces as he did it! He could not be
spoken to, or reasoned with, so I found a way to make sure that he would
never dare open his mouth about what happened here, what he thought was
happening here!"
	"You taught him a lesson," said Val. "You stopped him."
	A sad look came into The Phantom's eyes. "So far as we are
concerned, yes."
	"There's more?" asked Tyler.
	"Paul got off on the power he held over us, or thought he did. He
created fear, and for a while he was winning. I went into his barracks and
I molested him. I sucked his dick and I fucked his ass. I allowed him to do
the same to me, I gave him free reign and in the morning, in the daylight
he realized what he had done. The Twins confronted him and now he knew
fear. He knew that the Twins would not hesitate to expose him. He backed
down."
	"Why do I get the feeling there's more to this story that you're
telling us?" Val looked quizzically at The Phantom. "Well?"
	"Val, I never hated Paul Greene. I had no feelings for him. He was
an annoyance and then he became a danger to my friends, friends who, in
some cases, returned the feelings I had for them."
	"You mean that they, um, they . . .?" began Val, his eyes wide.
	"Yes. Some did," replied The Phantom with brutal honesty. "They
returned the love I gave them. I would not, could not betray their love,
and I would not allow Paul to denigrate or belittle that love. I did what I
did. Sadly, I didn't do as good a job as I thought I had."
	"Which means?" Tyler leaned forward. "Paul did something, didn't
he?"
	"Yes." He looked at Tyler. "What you don't know is that Paul raped
someone."
	The cup that Tyler had been holding clattered to the deck. "Raped?"
he whispered. "Raped?"
	"Do you remember the civilian that Brian had the fistfight with?"
	"The guy with the tattoo?" ventured Val.
	"Yes. His name is Logan Hartsfield. He came on board as part of the
civilian work party hired to dhobey up the ship. While everybody was on the
parade square playing silly buggers Paul skived off and hid in his
barracks. He caught Logan rifling the lockers, looking to steal something
and he forced Logan to have sex with him! I raped Paul, I admit it, but I
did it because it was the only way to make him back off. Paul raped Logan
because it gave him the sense of well-being and power he needed."
	"Let's get one thing straight, Phantom Lascelles, you did not rape
Paul Greene!" snapped Tyler angrily.
	"You can't rape the willing," said Val, his tone softer. "You did
what you did out of love for your friends. Paul did what he did to
demonstrate just how evil he truly is!"
	"Please don't give me credit where none is due," replied The
Phantom. "I raped Paul, and I have to live with it. My motives were not
pure, and I certainly did not enjoy the experience." The Phantom
straightened his back and stated firmly, "I was not interested in gaining
power over Paul Greene! I did want to gain a measure of control over him,
and I admit that. What I wanted was for him to back off, to go away, and
never bother my friends again! I wanted him to know that now someone knew
his secret and, if necessary, would use that knowledge." He snorted
disdainfully. "Paul Greene is a danger, yes. But once the Twins threatened
him with his own words . . ."
	"How did they do that?" asked Val, very interested in Paul Greene
and his secret.
	Unable to stop himself, The Phantom snickered. "We, I, had a tape
recorder. I recorded everything, and I mean everything, that happened that
night."
	"Now that is a tape I would like to hear!" opined Val.
	"You can't. The Twins gave their word. Nobody hears it unless Paul
breaks the bond he made with the Twins. So long as we have the tape Paul is
no danger to you, Tyler, to you Val, to the Twins, to all of the cadets
here! The Twins will keep their word. I will keep my word and so long as
Paul leaves us alone, so long as he stays away from me and mine, I want
nothing more to do with him!"
	"But you did seek the power to restrain the little bastard,"
responded Tyler phlegmatically. "You derived no pleasure, sought no true
sense of power."
	"True," admitted The Phantom reluctantly. "I only wanted him to go
away. If I never see him again, or hear about him, it will be too soon!"
	"I agree," said Tyler blandly. "But Paul, while he will not bother
us again because he won't risk exposure of his homosexuality, gets off on
power. You saw him when he was here. We made him a Petty Officer and we
gave him the responsibility, the power if you will, that comes with rank
and you both saw how he acted. That little prick used what we gave him to
terrorize!"
	"And he will go on doing it," observed Val with a sneer. "Whatever
organization that controls him will know what he is like, will use what he
is, and give him what he needs. If you ask me Little Big Man, that
sumbitch, gets off on hurting people."
	"Yes, he does," agreed Tyler. "He hates himself, true, but he also
loves the power he derives from his actions. He creates an atmosphere of
fear and feeds off of it. Sadly, he knows what he's doing and he doesn't
care about the wreckage he leaves behind."
	"Fortunately, in this case there was someone around to pick up the
pieces." A whimsical smile crossed The Phantom's face. "Brian ran into
Logan in Comox and helped him. Then Brian came to see me. I went to see
. . . I went to see someone who could help and when Logan left town, and
went to Victoria, there were people there to be with him, to help him."
	"The Order?" asked Tyler, one eyebrow raised.
	"Yes. The Order," replied The Phantom.
	Val squirmed and regarded The Phantom seriously. "I think it's time
you told me about this Order of yours."
	Glancing at Tyler, The Phantom gave him an enquiring look. Tyler
returned a slight shrug, which The Phantom took as a sign that there was no
harm in talking to Val. He was, after all, a brother, and, since he had
become Tyler's lover, a member of the special Brotherhood.
	"Well, first of all, it's called the Sovereign and Noble Order of
Saint John of the Cross of Acre," began The Phantom. "It was founded by
three knights, who were gay. The first priory was established in Acre in
1105."
	"Eight hundred odd years," supplied Tyler. "Strange that no one has
ever heard of it. I certainly didn't, until The Gunner told me about it."
	Tyler's remark caused Val to snort cynically. "Not strange when you
think about it," he said. "How many guys, in an Order, or out of it, are
going to proclaim to the world that they're gay? In some parts of this
world you might as well paint a target on your forehead!"
	"Which is why the Order has remained more or less secret,"
responded The Phantom. "The Gunner, and later the Proctor, told me that the
Order works in the shadows, helping gay men who, through no fault of their
own, are oppressed, thrown in jail, and so on. Nowadays they usually
provide legal funding, and moral support."
	Val thought a moment. "Why is The Gunner involved? Do you have to
be gay to be a member?"
	The Phantom shook his head. "There are two divisions. Gay knights
are called 'Professed', which means that they have professed, in front of
their peers, that they are gay. That's what I would have done had the
ceremony come off." The Phantom would not reveal that The Gunner was a
Professed Knight so he finished enigmatically, "The Gunner is in charge of
recruiting new members."
	Tyler scratched his chest absently. "Then the other 'division'
would be for non-gay men, those who sympathise, for whatever reason, with
gays?"
	"Yes," replied The Phantom. "It is also a Christian Order, which
sort of pisses me off as I want Sandro to be a part of us, and of the
Order."
	"Sandro?" Val's eyebrows rose high. "Sandro is like us?"
	"Your powers of observation leave a great deal to be desired,"
observed Tyler acidly. "And you had the nerve to tell me that I was the one
who couldn't see the forest for the trees!"
	"Some of us have better things to do than checking out our friends'
sex lives!" returned Val. "Anyway, Sandro?"
	"Sandro had sex with Nathan . . ." began The Phantom.
	"Big surprise!" growled Val. "I like Nathan, but I do wish he'd be
a little more, um, discreet! Hell, he's been pounding Fred's ass every
chance he gets!"
	Groaning softly, The Phantom said, "Don't I know it! Chef is that
pissed off at them using the back seat of Mark's car every bloody night!"
	"Chef knows?" asked Val, truly surprised.
	"He knows," confirmed The Phantom. "But for several good reasons he
doesn't say too much." The Phantom was choosing his words carefully. Chef,
as Proctor, wanted his role kept secret until the time came for him to
speak to each cadet being considered for Candidate Knighthood. "Anyway,
Sandro and Nathan got together after the Mess Dinner. From what I could
gather Sandro gave as good as he got and was strutting around like a
rooster in a chicken-run filled with freshly ravaged biddies! He was really
quite proud of himself."
	Val smiled fondly at Tyler, who blushed. "Well, Phantom, I can't
fault him there. It really is a quite glorious experience."
	"Yeah," breathed The Phantom, remembering his time with the Twins,
and his times with The Gunner. And Colin. "I've often wondered how many
guys make love to another guy, and then spend the rest of their lives
wondering about it, and regretting that they never did it again."
	"More than let on," said Tyler. "Getting it on with your best
friend, or best buddy, is almost of Rite of Passage, if you know what I
mean."
	Both Val and The Phantom nodded their agreement. "Well, Sandro is a
great guy, and I would like to see him as a Knight. He knows that he's gay,
and he's got balls," declared The Phantom firmly.
	"But, at the end of the day, he's still Jewish," replied Val.
	"Yes," agreed The Phantom. "When he came back, after being with
Nathan, and then being with Chad . . ."
	Both Tyler and Val all but shouted, "Chad?"
	The Phantom shushed both cadets. "Yes, Chad. I thought you knew!"
	"Well, I sure didn't," said Tyler.
	"And you were busting my balls about my powers of observation,"
sniffed Val disdainfully.
	"Did you know about Sandro and Chad?" demanded Tyler.
	"Well, no, I didn't," admitted Val.
	"Game, set and match," returned Tyler with a slight sneer. He
looked at The Phantom. "So, Chad and Sandro got it on."
	The Phantom nodded. "Sandro not only got it on, he fell in love!"
After retrieving his cup The Phantom hunkered down beside Val and held it
out for a refill. He took a sip of the lung-searing grappa, and continued,
"Sandro fell head over heels in love with Chad. He's hurting since Chad
went home, although he hides his feelings well."
	"He couldn't have found a nice Jewish boy?" asked Tyler as he
joined The Phantom and Val on the washplace floor. "Chad is a nice guy, but
I've heard some stories about him. He's not exactly a candidate for the
virgin of the month club."
	"That's not the point," The Phantom observed tartly. "What matters
is that Sandro has known the love of another boy. He knows what it's like
to be loved, and he considers us his brothers. He would make an ideal
knight, I think, and I'm going to have to talk to . . . someone about
making it possible for non-Christians to join the Order."
	"The Gunner?" posited Val, whose powers of observation were keener
than Tyler knew.
	The Phantom, who had actually been thinking of Chef, shook his
head, no. "He's the Chancellor of the Order, and I suppose he'd have to
become involved at some stage, but I know someone else who is very high in
the Council of Knights. There's no point in starting a cat fight, going off
half-cocked, and I'd like to know what others think about it first."
	"Well, if I were a knight, and if I were on the Council, I think I
would say yes." Tyler nodded his affirmation. "Yes, definitely. Sandro is
good people and should not be barred simply because he's not a Christian."
	The Phantom looked at Val questioningly. "Well?"
	Val looked surprised. "Why ask me? I'm not a knight."
	"Not yet," replied The Phantom enigmatically. "But if you were a
knight, would you support Sandro's candidacy?"
	Val raised his head, his eyes sad and looked at The Phantom. Being
a Son of the Church, Val had spent far too many Sunday mornings listening
to the Church's proscriptions and denunciations against Jews. Growing up in
a neighbourhood filled with Sons of the Church had reinforced the teachings
of the Vatican: Jews were abominations, and had killed The Christ. God, who
was Catholic, condemned the Jews and while the Church might celebrate the
Feast of the Circumcision every 1st of January, the Curia conveniently
forgot that Jesus Christ was a Jew.
	Neither The Phantom nor Tyler failed to notice Val's
hesitation. The Phantom placed his hand on Val's leg and rubbed gently,
feeling the rough black hair and smooth, warm skin. "Doubts?" he asked
quietly.
	Sighing, Val smiled unhappily. "I was just thinking that until now
I was never asked about how I felt about Jews. I was expected to parrot the
party line - the Church's line - about them. In church, in school, before I
could really understand anything, I was fed a line of bullshit about how
they were different, dirty, venal and just plain bad."
	"The stereotypical Jew," replied The Phantom. "I had some of the
same crap jammed down my throat. But it's not true, is it?"
	"No," agreed Val. "Suddenly I'm starting to understand things
differently. I am starting to think for myself and I realize that for a
good portion of my life I believed the myths, the discrimination, the
Word!" He reached over and passed his hand along The Phantom's genitals. "A
year ago, a month ago, I would never have done this because that would have
been queer. Touching, holding, kissing, another guy was queer!"
	"And now?" asked Tyler. He leaned over and kissed Val gently. His
hand drifted down to clasp the not quite so biggest of only three
circumcised Sicilian penises in Saskatoon.
	Strangely, Val felt nothing sexual in his friends' actions. He
reached to hold both The Phantom and Tyler. "Now I doubt everything I was
told. Gays were bad, but the Twins are beautiful and good and
honourable. Phantom is all of those and more. And so are you, Tyler. In you
I have a gift, a gift to hold forever."
	"All of which means?" asked The Phantom.
	"It means that for too long I allowed myself to be persuaded by
others, influenced by the opinions of others. Instead of judging each
individual on who he was, I let the teachings of my childhood rule my
thoughts and actions and so, Phantom, I confess that I hesitated about
Sandro because of those teachings." He looked into The Phantom's emerald
eyes and smiled. "So, you see, I too have made a confession."
	"And I would have thought that sitting in a bathroom, with my hand
on another guy's dick, was despicable and horrible," added Tyler. "But you
know, it feels kind of nice."
	"And we all laugh when the Twins sit on the porch with their hands
down each other's underpants," sniffed Val. "I personally like what I'm
feeling. I don't feel like I want to get laid. I feel like I'm sitting with
two of the greatest guys in my life, holding them, feeling their strength
and love."
	"Which is what Cory and Todd feel," said The Phantom. He
giggled. "And this does feel nice."
	"Yeah," breathed Val. Then he looked serious again. "Sandro is one
of us and I agree, Phantom, that if the Order wants me, they'd better be
willing to take my brother!"
	"Fuckin' aye," growled The Phantom in agreement. "I'm glad I put
his name on the list!"
	"What list?" asked Tyler, staring at The Phantom.
	"The Gunner had a list of names, names of cadets, and men, he
thought would make possible candidates for knighthood. I saw it and I added
some names." He smiled smugly. "Your name was on the list, Tyler, and
Val's."
	"But Phantom, how could The Gunner put my name on the list?" asked
Tyler. "He can't know that Val and I are lovers! He can't possibly know
that I'm gay."
	"I wouldn't be too sure," replied The Phantom with a grin. "He's
the Chancellor of the Order and he sees and hears a lot about a lot of
guys. He was making a list of guys he felt would be sympathetic. He had no
idea that you and Val had discovered each other."
	"Ours were not the only names?" asked Val, frankly probing.
	"There were others," replied The Phantom.
	"Guys you made it with?" hinted Val.
	"Some, yes," admitted The Phantom. He grinned at Val. "And I am
still not telling you who they were."
	"Damn," grumbled Val in pretended exasperation, although he was
becoming curious.
	"The Gunner had no way of knowing about any of the names on his
list. My guess is that he still does not know about you two. He was working
on the premise that you don't have to be gay to be a knight, just
sympathetic to gays, willing to put your money and your muscle where your
mouth is, and be circumcised."

******

" . . . So you see, Logan, one must make a small sacrifice," Laurence said
in reply to Logan's probing question. "It is completely voluntary and no
one thinks any the less if one balks at the procedure."
	"One simply does not become a knight, or even be considered for
membership," stated Logan firmly, unconsciously emulating his mentor's tone
and pattern of speech.
	Laurence smiled inwardly. The more time he spent with the young
Canadian the more Logan took on certain characteristics. His language was
suddenly more formal, and he now took time to think before he said
anything. There was more truth in the phrase that imitation was the finest
form of compliment, although Laurence felt that Logan did not really
understand or realize his subtle transformation.
	They were lying deep within the Crown lands to the north and west
of the compound. Laurence had set a heavy, man-killing pace in Logan's
training and the boy's initial grumbling had turned, albeit slowly, to
quiet determination. He was determined to learn, and to become what
Laurence wanted him to become. Logan was no longer a child of the
streets. He was almost a hard, professional soldier.
	The training regimen that Laurence set Logan to doing was hard, but
Laurence was with him every inch of the way, whether it was firing small
arms in the basement range of the house, swimming laps in the pool or
sneaking through the dark forests, setting man traps and reconnoitring and
observing the roving security patrols. Laurence was training Logan hard,
with no quarter asked or given, in covert ops, infiltration, anti-terrorist
tactics, radio procedures and now, living off the land.
	They were camped in a small clearing with only the barest of fires
lighting the night's gloom. They had worked their way through the dense
underbrush and now they were resting. They had established camp beside a
small stream, heated some water and washed as much of the day's grime away
as they could - the stream was much too shallow for bathing - and
shaved. Dinner had been pre-packaged, barely edible meals, military
rations, heated over a small fire. Under ordinary circumstances they would
not have built a fire at all, but since the forests surrounding them were
more or less alive with campers, Laurence allowed the fire.
	After washing and shaving they had stripped off and rinsed their
combats and soiled underpants in the stream. Now, changed into clean
underpants and T-shirts, a rumpled green T-shirt and boxers for Laurence,
tighty-whiteys for Logan. They lay outside their tent, lying beside the
fire. They would be sleeping rough, with only a blanket and whatever pine
boughs they could gather to form a mattress. The tent, small and compact,
was a luxury they would enjoy for this training period only. Later, if time
allowed, Logan would be taught how to sleep rougher still, with nothing but
his wits and whatever nature provided for cover. He would also learn what
it was like to scrounge for their food. Logan had thus far been an
enthusiastic student and Laurence wondered how he would react to tree
grubs.
	As a good student, Logan asked many questions, and learned
quickly. He had stopped complaining, and now wanted answers to some of his
questions. His most frequent question was, Why?
	Laurence had tried to explain that Michael had seen something in
Logan and was determined to bring the young man to his best potential. Just
what Michael had in mind for Logan, Laurence did not know, and he was
honest enough to admit it to Logan. Logan had then asked about the Order.
	Carefully, Laurence had told Logan what he could. He did not
hesitate when it came to explaining that one of the requirements was
medical circumcision. Logan had not balked, as some would, and merely
expressed his curiosity on the subject.
	"What I don't understand, sir, and please forgive me, for I mean no
disrespect," began Logan, "but why circumcision?"
	"Why not?" returned Laurence. "For the Jews it is a sign of the
Covenant they have with God. For the knights, it is a sign of the Covenant
between brothers."
	"No, that's not what I mean," said Logan as he slipped his hands
under the leg bands of his briefs. He winced at the chafed flesh under the
elastic banding. "You didn't by any chance bring some baby powder, did you,
sir?"
	Laurence smiled knowingly. "No. Another lesson learned. I apologize
for not suggesting boxer underpants."
	"Too late now," replied Logan. "Anyway, why circumcision?"
	"It has always been something special, Logan. Only a very few males
were circumcised outside of the Jewish religion. For the Jews, it was a
return to God, a confirmation of their Covenant and a reaffirmation that
man was created in the image of God, or Yahweh."
	"Pardon?"
	"Logan, Adam was created in the Image of God. He was born without a
foreskin. When he was expelled from the Garden of Eden, he took to wearing
a fig leaf to symbolize that he was no longer close to God. The foreskin,
or orlah, is a barrier in the way of a beneficial result, in this case the
return to God's love. Adam's sons, which are all mankind, were thereafter
born with foreskins, symbolizing their separation from God."
	Logan, whose religious training had been sketchy at best,
remembered some long ago class in Sunday school. "Sort of like Original
Sin?"
	"I suppose so," replied Laurence, thinking. "When God judged the
time right, that man could finally surmount sin, as demonstrated by
Abraham, He commanded that Abraham remove the orlah, the barrier or as it
is sometimes called, the defilement, between Him and his Chosen
people. Hence, circumcision."
	"Which the Christians replaced with baptism."
	"In essence, yes. To be forgiven the original sin of Adam, one has
to be baptized." Laurence chuckled mirthlessly. "Of course, being
Christians the early Disciples believed in the literal word of Jesus Christ
and also felt it necessary to emulate Him in every way. As they were also
all Jews, they decreed that a convert first had to be circumcised, and then
baptized. Being pragmatists, they also realized that in order for their new
religion to survive they needed to attract converts, powerful converts."
	"The Romans," stated Logan, who stilled retained some vestiges of
his admittedly sporadic education.
	"When the early Christians tried to convert the pagans, that is the
Romans, they ran into a stumbling block with regard to circumcision, which
the early Disciples thought necessary - a convert had to become a Jew, then
he could be baptized." Laurence's laughter turned cynical. "Unfortunately,
the Romans looked upon the Jews as a conquered people and they would never
'lower' themselves to the level of slaves, for they were Romans after
all. To solve the problem Saint Paul had a very convenient vision, wrote an
Epistle, and now God said that you didn't have to be circumcised!"
	Logan laughed heartily. "Which shows up the basic hypocrisy of the
Christian churches! If there's something you don't like, you have a vision
and everything's fine!"
	"So long as you give the people you are trying to convert what they
want, yes," replied Laurence. "Religion plays a great part in the lives of
many people and they are prepared to believe anything their leaders
preach. You need only turn on your television any Sunday morning and listen
to the evangelists spouting their nonsense. Look at the faces in the
congregation. Once you see those faces you can understand why there are
sects that think snake handling is next to Godliness!"
	"And the Order?"
	Laurence looked at his student. "A symbolic gesture between
knights, a symbol of the Covenant of the Outcast, as it was once
called. There can be no compromise, Logan, no circumcisions of the
heart. There will be no 'visions' on the road to Tarsus."
	Logan sat up and stared into the embers of the dying fire. "Can I
be honest with you," he asked quietly.
	"Of course," replied Laurence confidently. "I am your mentor, your
teacher and, I hope, your friend."
	"You've explained about circumcision in the Order. I understand the
symbolism of it, and I agree with it. What I want to know is what else I'd
have to do."
	The look on Logan's face told Laurence what the real question
was. "Other than profess, one way or the other, nothing. You swear to abide
by the Rule of the Order, live a life of honour and respect, and help your
brothers and nothing more. If you choose to enter into a relationship you
are asked to be discreet."
	"I won't have to become somebody's bum boy?"
	Laurence grimaced. "A crude expression, and no, you will not be
asked, required or in any way coerced, into a sexual situation with
anyone. The only restriction would be if you were a paedophile. The Order
will not countenance sex between men and young boys or underage
girls. Whatever your sexuality, be it homosexual or heterosexual,
everything you do must be consensual, and within the bounds of propriety."
	Stirring, Laurence put a few more twigs on the fire and then looked
at Logan. "Noel, the footman who suggested 'helping you out', is not an
example of a knight. He is not, in fact, a candidate. He is now, in fact,
nothing more that a discharged servant."
	Logan's eyes widened. "He was fired?"
	Laurence nodded.
	"Hell, I mean, uh, I didn't mean to get him fired!"
	Resuming his place, Laurence poked the growing fire with a small
branch. "You did not have all that much to do with Noel's leaving the
compound. There were other things that influenced the decision to separate
him." He smiled thinly at Logan. "If it is any consolation, he was amply
rewarded and in truth he was happy to go. He was having second thoughts
about the Order as it was, and would have left of his own accord sooner
rather than later."
	Logan lay back and unconsciously slipped his hand into his
briefs. "When you say 'profess' you mean declaring that you're gay?"
	"Yes. Remember that gay men, for gay men, founded the Order. It
does all of its work within what is commonly called the 'gay
community'. The Order has endured for over 800 years and while it has
always accepted heterosexual members, the vast majority of the Roll of
Knights has always been homosexual."
	For a long while Logan remained silent. Then he whispered into the
dark night, "I think I am."
	"Think, or know?" asked Laurence. "You must be very clear in your
mind, in your heart, Logan, as to who, and what you are."
	"Sir, where I grew up, I was the town bad boy. My father was the
town drunk. I lived in a trailer park, for Christ's sake, and everybody
thought I'd never amount to anything!"
	"I know, and what does that have to do with you being gay?" asked
Laurence gently. Logan was about to unburden his soul and Laurence wanted
to take great care in helping the young man to do so. "One can live in a
palace and be gay, you know."
	"I know that," returned Logan, somewhat impatiently. "What I mean
is, I never really had the chance to find out what I was! Nice people
thought that I was nothing more than trailer trash. Their kids looked at me
and sneered at my clothes, at the way I talked. Nobody bothered to find out
what I was really like!"
	"So you rebelled, drank, took drugs, smoked, and gave credence to
the opinions others had of you."
	Logan did not fully understand what Laurence was talking about, but
understood enough. "I was trash, so I acted liked trash," he declared
honestly. "I got into trouble, and I've been in jail. Nice kids didn't want
to have anything to do with me, and the only girls I ever fucked were the
town mattresses. They did it with everyone, so much so that I was the only
guy around that would fuck them! Nice boys used them and then walked away."
	"Which has nothing to do with your sexuality, or your perception of
that sexuality," replied Laurence. "As the odd man out you were never given
the opportunity to explore those secret feelings that you obviously had."
	"You know, then?"
	"Of course. Logan, every boy goes through a period of
experimentation, of exploration and wondering about themselves, wondering
what it would be like to feel another boy's penis, to have him feel
yours. It is called puberty. I went through it. I had the opportunity to
explore my feelings."
	"I didn't," responded Logan. "Oh, I did fool around, once, with one
of the other boys who lived in the park, but after he moved away, I didn't
do anything. I wanted to . . ." he turned his sad eyes to Laurence and
smiled wanly. "The other boys made fun of me because I wasn't like
them. They laughed at my dick and the girls, well, they all knew about me
and one of them told me that she wouldn't touch me because of 'the skin'."
	"Which still does not have any bearing on your being homosexual,"
replied Laurence. "And I was made fun of at school. The boys called me
'Clipped-Cock'."
	"You're kidding me!"
	"Not at all," replied Laurence easily. "In England circumcision is
not routine, and very few boys are. Most of those who are circumcised come
from the upper classes - and the Royal Family. The Chief Rabbi visited the
Prince of Wales a few days after his birth. His brothers had to make do
with one of the Royal surgeons. The upper classes merely followed the Royal
example, although not all did. The vast majority of English boys are not
given the 'gift for life'."
	Nodding, Logan snorted. "Here, in Canada, just about everybody is,
you know." He shook his head slowly. "Except me! The other boys made fun of
me and called me 'Indian Dick'!"
	"Sadly, school boys can be vicious creatures," replied Laurence
with a mournful smile. "I was the odd man out at my public school, so I can
sympathise with you."
	"Bastards," snarled Logan. Then he smiled shyly at Laurence. "I did
wonder about you, though."
	"In truth there is nothing to wonder about. My mother insisted that
my brothers and I be circumcised because she was raised in a Victorian
household, a traditionalist household, and as her father and her brothers
had been circumcised so were her sons. My father balked, being a low class
twit, but Mum ruled the house! Here, now, routine infant circumcision is
considered the norm. Sadly, there is a growing movement composed of zealots
and anti-Semites who oppose the practice. The movement is well organized
and growing in influence. Just as sadly the medical fraternity, which
should know better, has started to jump on board."
	"More fools them," retorted Logan. "I know what I want, and one day
I'll have it. If I ever have a son, he'll be circumcised, if only because
it looks better, and is sure as hell is a lot cleaner!"
	"That will be your decision," replied Laurence. "What you do with
your body, or in the best interests of your son, or sons, is up to
you. Only you can decide who you are, what you are, and what is best for
you."
	"Including being gay?"
	"Logan, you cannot simply decide one morning that you are gay. I
personally believe that one is born gay. One cannot help it. You can
experiment, yes, and determine if your homosexuality is real. I can only
tell you that when I was very young I knew that I was homosexual. I was not
interested in girls, only boys. I delighted in seeing my school chums
naked. I enjoyed playing with my friends. I was, I think, ten when I had my
first experience. I have had several experiences since then, and I never
regretted having them. You, on the other hand, have only had one juvenile
experience."
	"I was a prostitute, sir! I sold my dick to guys. Doesn't that
count?"
	"Did you do it out of economic necessity or because you enjoyed
doing it?"
	"At first, I needed the money. Then I wanted it, I wanted to have
my dick sucked by another guy!"
	"That only proves that you enjoyed being fellated," replied
Laurence calmly. He eyed Logan carefully. The young man was quite handsome,
stunning in a rough-hewn sort of way, well muscled in the chest and the
legs, with a fine behind. His hair, black and curling, was stunning, as was
the massive tattoo of a Spanish galleon in full sail on his chest. Logan
was very well endowed as well. Not at all a bad catch. Dismissing any
thoughts of Logan's beauty from his mind, Laurence continued. "I served
with several men who thought the ultimate sexual experience was being
fellated."
	"By another man, sir?" snapped Logan.
	Smiling inwardly, Laurence shrugged. Logan, for all his desperation
and frustration over his sexuality, remembered their first meeting. "I
never enquired," he said, his voice never changing. "When I was in Vietnam
I also knew that many of my mates visited the whorehouses and only went
there for what is commonly called a blow job."
	Logan glanced at Laurence and then looked quickly away. The
Englishman was very handsome, an obvious stud. Then he shook his head, as
if to rid his mind of the thoughts he was thinking. "The last time I went
to Harkness Bay, a man offered me money to fuck him in the ass. I didn't go
with him."
	"Why?"
	"I . . . um . . ." Logan's features darkened slightly. "He was
old." He stopped speaking abruptly.
	"Which only proves that anal intercourse with another man depends
on his age. You did not find an old man attractive. Would you have gone
with a younger man, a man your own age?"
	"Yes, I would have. I wanted to," admitted Logan truthfully. "But I
didn't. Another guy came along and I . . . I took his money and then I
left. I stopped to get something to eat and while I was eating I got to
thinking about what I'd done and slopped mustard all over myself." He
giggled slightly. "Of course, that's the start of how I met Brian."
	"The young man who fought with you and, in a way, rescued you."
	"Yes. He was the first person who took an interest in me, who
wanted to help me," replied Logan with some emotion. "He never asked for
anything, never seemed to want anything other than for me to be happy. All
the way down on the bus to Victoria I thought about him."
	Laurence stood up and began to bank the fire. "And in thinking of
Brian you began to think about your feelings towards him?"
	"Yes." Logan pulled himself upright and arranged his blanket over
the bed of pine boughs they had made. He then crawled into the tent and
settled down for the night.
	After securing the area, Laurence joined Logan. He was not
unaccustomed to sleeping this way. He had done it many times before, during
training exercises back home, and in the jungles of Vietnam. He could feel
Logan's warm body against his and remembered with fondness those times.
	"Is Brian a knight, sir?" asked Logan suddenly.
	"Not yet. His name is on the list," Laurence paused, and added, "As
is yours." He could almost hear the smile that creased Logan's face. "Of
course, you must be sponsored, and prove that you are worthy of becoming a
member of the Order."
	"You're not too uncomfortable, sir?" asked Logan. "And will you be
my sponsor?"
	"I am quite comfortable. In Vietnam sleeping under the stars was
quite the thing, don't ye know. Sharing a sleeping hole with a mate was
also quite the norm. As for being your sponsor, I am considering it." He
felt Logan's body shift slightly, pressing closer. "Now go to sleep, young
Logan. Tomorrow we shall play a different game."
	"Sir?" There was a note of trepidation in Logan's voice.
	Hastily, Laurence, who wanted the young man to be completely at
ease, said, "We are going to play a little game with the inside security
forces. They seem to think that their defences are impregnable. I intend to
prove them wrong."
	A low chuckle escaped Logan's throat. "I can't wait to see
Mr. Michael's reaction."

******

Sleep would not come to Laurence and he was debating on getting up and
restarting the fire when he felt Logan's hand on his shoulder.
	"Sir?"
	"I'm awake."
	"Sir, please, help me to know."
	"Are you sure?" asked Laurence, not surprised. He had been
contemplating when Logan would act, and what he would do when the boy made
the first move.
	"I'm sure," replied Logan, his voice filled with strength. "Please,
sir."
	Laurence rolled and faced the young man. "Whatever we do will not
change our relationship. You do understand that?"
	"Yes. But I still want to find out. I need to know what, no who, I
am," replied Logan earnestly. "I need to know," he said again as he closed
his eyes and waited for the kiss he knew would come.