Chapter 13:

Although hundreds of uncut boys were still in the compound, the ratio of cut to uncut boys had shifted.  More cut boys than uncut boys were inside. 

Whether they were still boys, whether they still had minds -- thoughts -- no one knew.  Other than to take food and water, they gave no indication they knew a world outside of themselves existed.  The sounds they made, low and keening, were unintelligible.

They had to be kept alive, though.  When one of them died, so would his golem.  Slaves came in each day to feed and water them, following them, as they walked, putting food in their mouths, and squirting water into their mouths from a skin.  All of the slaves had been neutered.

Whenever guards or slaves were inside the compound, Dylan and the three other boys, stumbled around the compound just like the golem shells did, pretending they, too, were blind and deaf. 

It hadn't been easy.  They hurt from being cut.  The golem shells apparently did not.  Each step was agonizing. 

Still they did it, trying not to show the pain on their faces.  Slaves fed them as they walked.  At least they ate.  The uncut boys weren't fed.  They had water, but no food.  They would all be cut before they starved.

Two days had passed since they'd cut themselves.  Dylan saw several uncut boys huddled together, talking.  They looked in his direction.  He and his friends had been sitting on the ground since no guards were in the compound. 

"Stand up and walk," he said to the others.  We're being watched."  They all stood and began walking, imitating the shuffle of the golem shells.

The boys -- five of them he could see, now -- walked over to him.  He, Pedr, Steffan, and Sawyl had spit up, walking off in different directions. 

He didn't have the knife.  He'd hidden it under a rock.  One of the boys grabbed hold of him.  Dylan tried to ignore him, pretending he couldn't see or hear him.

"I know you can hear me," said the boy.  Dylan continued to attempt to walk, even though the boy held him.  The boy grabbed his crotch, causing it to start bleeding again.  Dylan screamed.  He couldn't help himself. 

"I know you're not one of them," the boy said.  "I've watched you.  You can see.  I've seen you sit -- even sleep.  They never do.  Why don't you look out of the golem's eyes like they do?"

It was no good to pretend any longer.  No golem shell would have felt the boy grab its mutilated crotch -- and Dylan didn't want him to do it again. 

He didn't think he could stand for him to do it again.  The pain had only begun to ease before the boy had grabbed him there.  Now, it felt like he'd been cut all over again, not as much of course, not like he'd been kicked in the balls, as it had when he'd cut off his balls, but it hurt.

"The wizard didn't cut me," he said.  "I fathered no golem."

"But, you're cut," said the boy.  The others listened.

"I cut myself," said Dylan, "and burned my cock and balls.  That way, the wizard can't use them to make a golem."

"And your friends," asked the boy.  "did they cut themselves, too?"

"I cut them," said Dylan.

"Then, cut me, too," said the boy.

"You'd give up your cock and balls?" asked Dylan.

"Cut them off, or cut my throat," said the boy.  "I would have done it already, had I a knife.  I prefer death to that."  He pointed to one of the golem shells.

"And you?" Dylan asked the other four.

"Yes," each of them said.

"Meet me by the stone pile after dark," said Dylan.  "I'll cut you then.  The wizard won't come back today."

The boy, along with his friends -- they'd brought two others -- met Dylan and his friends at the stone pile after dark. 

"I'll cut you," Dylan said, "but I can't use a hot knife.  The wizard never does.  Because I can't, you'll bleed   Some of you may even die; but we'll do what we can for you.  Do you all want to be cut?"

"Cut my throat," said one of the boys.  I would rather have my throat cut than have my cock and balls cut off."

"I can't do that said Dylan.  "If the guards find you with your throat cut, then they'll know about the knife."

"Cut them off, then.  I'll lose them anyway, if you don't."

"What's your name?" asked Dylan.

"Urien," said the boy.

"Then, I'll cut you first, Urien.  It'll be easier if you don't see the others cut first."

"I"ve been here for four days," said Urien.  "I've seen hundreds cut during that time, but cut me first, anyway."

"I will only cut you," said Dylan, "if you let me dedicate your cock and balls to the God."

"Why?" asked Urien.  "What has the God ever done for any of us.  He's the God of the nobles, not ours.  He turned his face away from us eons ago."

"Would you rather have the wizard give them to the Dark Lord?  If the God takes your sould, he won't feast on it as will the Dark Lord.  You will live with him in the afterlife."

"When has the God ever taken the soul of a commoner or slave?"

"Were you a slave?" asked Dylan.

"Yes," said Urien, "in the king's palace."

"Why do you still have your cock and balls, then?" asked Dylan. "Most are cut before they have their man hair."

"I worked for the blacksmith," said Urien.  "He wanted me to have my growth before I was cut."

"Did you know the prince?" asked Dylan.

"I saw him," said Urien.  "I saw him cut a boy once -- a boy he wanted for his jilly boy, a black haired boy named Glendower.

"Glendower?" said Steffan, "a beautiful boy with black hair and blue eyes?"

"Yes," said Urien, "he was the prince's jilly boy until he got a new one, a boy with red hair."

"Braith," said Steffan.  "By this time, Pedr and Sawyl were looking at Dylan, too.

"Who are you?" Pedr asked Dylan.

Dylan couldn't see the sense to lying any longer.  If he couldn't trust Pedr and the others, he could trust no one.  "I was the prince," he said, "Braith -- with his magic -- changed me.  Braith is really a girl, Lady Megan, the daughter of the king's healer.  She changed herself to Braith and me to Dylan."

"The prince?" said Pedr, "but why?  Why the charade?'

"At first, it was just done as a lark.  Megan -- Braith -- and I wanted to see what it was like to be slaves.  It was just going to be for a day, but it was fun, and we could make love as Braith and Dylan.  That was forbidden to Emrys and Megan.  Beside, after I killed Grigor, I was responsible for the rest of you.  I didn't want to abandon you."

"And Glendower was your jilly boy."

"Before I fell in love with Megan, he was," said Dylan.

"But why are you still Dylan?" asked Pedr.

"When Megan's mother repudiated her, she lost her magic.  She couldn't change back to Megan.  Neither could she change me back to Emrys.  But if she had, I'd likely be dead like my father."

"The eyes," Urien said, "the eyes are the same.  The prince had the deepest blue eyes.   Yours are the same."

"Yes," said Dylan.  "My eyes remained the same.  Them and my cock and balls -- but as you can see.  I no longer have them."

"Did you dedicate you cock and balls to the God?" asked Urien.

"Yes," said Dylan.

"Why?" said Urien.  "hasn't he deserted you?  Hasn't he deserted all the nobles?  Either that or he's dead.  The Dark Lord rules in Gwynedd now."

"I don't know," said Dylan.  "I thought he had deserted me, but when I gave him my genitals, I felt him -- just for a moment, but I felt him.  I don't think he's dead.  He's weak.  He may be bound, but I don't think he's dead."

"But what good did it do to give him your cock and balls?" asked Urien.

"What harm could it do?" asked Dylan, "Besides, the God and the land -- the God and his people are one.  I think we abandoned the God, not he that abandoned us.  I had a dream the night after I gave him my genitals.  The God came to me in the dream.  He told me that if enough men and boys gave up their cocks and balls to him,  that he would become not just the God of the nobles, but the God of all men."

"How many are enough?" asked Urien.

"One hundred forty-four thousand," said Dylan.

"A hundred forty-four thousand!" said Urien, "are there so many in the world?"

"Yes," said Dylan, "but that many must give their cocks and balls to the God, before the wizard cuts that many for the Dark Lord.  If the Dark Lord gets his one hundred forty-four thousand first, the God will be forever chained, and the Dark Lord will rule the world."

"Why one hundred forty-four thousand?" asked Pedr.

"It's a magical number -- a sacred number.  Which ever god gets it first, rules both the world of man and the world of the gods.  I realize -- after the dream -- that's why we nobles castrate our slaves.  We were trying reach the one hundred forty-four thousand that way, but we failed.  Each noble -- other than the first born -- was also required to sacrifice his cock and balls to the God, but -- other than the priests -- none did. 

For that reason, it didn't matter how many slaves we castrated.  By not keeping our covenant, we never fulfilled our obligation to the God.  For that reason, the God became weaker, allowing the Dark Lord to regain power."

"And what do we get, if we give our cocks and balls to the God?" asked Urien.

"The hundred forty-four thousand will be revered above all others.  They will become the God's angels.  A separate kingdom will be set aside for them, a heaven, over which they will rule.  They will all sit to the right hand of the God, his most favored."

"Revered above the nobles?" asked Urien.

"Yes, above even the nobles," said Dylan.  The nobles failed the God."

"And the God will take the souls of commoners?"

"Yes," said Dylan.  "If a man believe in the God, he will be saved."

"And my death wouldn't be my end?"

"Neither would the Dark Lord feast on your soul -- for that's really the alternative.  Either the God wins and all his children live within his sight, or the Dark Lord wins and the world become filled with golems and soulless husks, with the Dark Lord feasting on the souls of all."

"And you saw all that in your dream?" asked Urien.

"Yes," said Dylan.  He wasn't telling them all he'd seen in his dream.  If he did, none of them would help.  They might give their cocks and balls, but only so Nysrogh couldn't have them, not for love of the God. 

The nobles had failed the God in two ways.  Not only should all but the first sons have given their cocks and balls to the God, but -- when they had conquered Gwynedd five hundred years before -- they were to have castrated every male inhabitant of the country, men and boys. 

Not one male commoner, not even an infant, was to be left with either a cock or balls.  The entire race of commoners should have died out hundreds of years before, because males of noble birth could not interbreed with their women.

But wanting slaves, the nobles had allowed a few of the commoner males to remain intact, using them to breed more slaves. 
Disobeying the God, they had put him and themselves at risk.  He was bound, and Nyrogh would feast on their souls. 

As punishment -- and to save the God -- all noble males must be cut.  Dylan's sacrifice of his genitals had given the God hope. 

If Dylan acquired the one hundred forty-four thousand cocks and balls -- if all nobles were castrated -- then the God could escape his bonds.

Nysrogh wouldn't yet be defeated.  The God would have to physically enter the world of man to fight him from there; but if he did, he might defeat Nysrogh.

"And you are the prince?"

"I was the prince.  Now, I'm just Dylan." 

But if he did obtain the one hundred forty-four thousand, and the God defeated Nysrogh, he would once again be Emrys, with Emrys's cock and balls. 

The God kept them in trust.  When they had disappeared in the fire, they had gone to the God.  Emrys alone would father a new race of nobles, one that would -- this time -- keep their covenant with the God.

"But you gave the cock and balls of the prince to the God?" asked Urien.

"The cock and balls I gave to the God belonged both to Dylan and to Prince Emrys."  He didn't tell him that the God kept them in trust.  It bothered him that he didn't. 

It wouldn't have bothered Emrys, the noble, but it did bother Dylan, the commoner, the cock-less and ball-less boy.  That boy had come to love Pedr, Steffan, and the others. 

Although Emrys might have been fond of them, it would have been the fondness of a master for his pet.

"Then, you're the first of the hundred forty-four thousand?"

"I was the fourth," said Dylan.  "Steffan was the first."

"Then let me be the fifth," said Urien, "Cut me, now."  His eyes seemed to glaze over, as if he were looking off into a distance.

Dylan built a small fire, using the steel of the knife and a piece of flint he'd found. 

Taking Urien's cock and balls in his hand, he said, "Do you dedicate your cock and balls to the God?"

"Yes," said Urien, "I do."

Dylan sliced them off, throwing them into the fire afterward.  Urien seemed hypnotized.  He didn't scream.  Nor did he bleed much. 

Once again, Dylan felt the God.  He cut the other four boys.  The God seemed stronger with each cut -- not much. 

He was a long ways from a hundred forty-four thousand, only nine of those, but it was a start.

In a week, he had cut a hundred boys.  He could only cut a few each day, no more that twenty, otherwise someone would have noticed. 

During that week, the wizard had cut seven hundred, had probably cut two thousand to his hundred. 

They couldn't stay in the compound, cutting twenty each day to the wizard's hundred.  That way, Nysrogh would win.  They had to escape.

Besides, the wizard had begun cutting his own soldiers, replacing them with their golems.  A golem obeyed orders without any questions. 

A golem didn't have to be paid.  A golem was a perfect soldier, a perfect tool of the Dark Lord. 

Before long almost all the soldiers around the compound -- with the exception of some previously neutered ones like Glendower -- were golems. 

Their counterparts shuffled about the compound.  Few of the recent uncut ones, former soldiers themselves, already given to Nysrogh, would have been suitable to the God.

One day, Glendower came into the compound, walking up to Dylan, who shuffled around the compound, pretending to be a golem shell.  "You didn't take my advice, I see, prince.  Would that you had.  Does Nysrogh already feast on your soul?" 

Glendower didn't expect Dylan to answer him.  None of the golem shells could hear.