There were fourteen in the club, including Gupta and myself: seven men and seven women. We met in a little hollow in the banks of the Sipta, half a league north of Ozenê. They did not use the public park, Gupta explained, because it was too close to the city and hence too likely to draw hostile attention. This place was well hidden by trees and shrubbery from the Modoura road.
I was there alone, having given Gnouros the evening off. Otaspes was entertaining the Sakas, who had lingered in Ozenê to sample the joys of what seemed to them a big, glittering city. He and they could understand each other, for the Scythian tongue is much like the Persian.
Gupta hung a garland of flowers around my neck and introduced me to our twelve fellow-celebrants. A comely woman named Ratha had been chosen as my partner. They questioned me about my native "Ionia" and its customs, which they found barbarous and revolting. I thought it inexpedient to tell them what I thought of some of their customs.
We grilled beefsteaks and washed them down with palm wine. We drank to the nonexistent gods. We drank confusion to the meddlesome Buddhists and the superstitious Brachmanists alike. By the time we had drunk to the downfall of all of Gupta's pet abominations, my head swam.
One man, a merchant, had lately returned from a journey to Palibothra, the capital of mighty Magadha. To judge from this traveler's account, King Odraka's capital must be a metropolis the size of Athens or Alexandria, and the magnificence of its royal palace would make the palaces I saw in Barygaza and Mahismati and Ozenê look like peasants' huts by comparison.
At Palibothra, this merchant had encountered a cult that worshiped, with extravagant rites, the "female creative principle." Producing a small drum, he explained these rites, rhythmically tapping his drum. There were, for instance, mantras or incantations, of which he gave us a few samples. Soon all fourteen of us were chanting the mantras, such as "The jewel is in the lotus," in unison.
Then there were dances. We danced in circles and drank some more and chanted mantras and danced and drank ...
I fuzzily noted that the others seemed to have cast off their few garments and that the dancing was taking on the character proper to an orgy, with writhing embraces, lascivious fondling, and intertwining of limbs. Ratha tugged at my tunic, which I allowed her to pull off.
Other couples had thrown themselves down in the long grass, which quivered with their exertions. Ratha tried to spur my sluggish passions, at last it seemed that she would succeed. I felt my old strength flow into my loins. Then she indicated the belt of cloth containing my gemstones and my remaining cash.
"Take it off!" she said from the ground on which she lay, supine and expectant.
"No," I said. "It will not be in the way."
"Take it off, or you shall never put your jewel into my lotus!"
"I will not!"
"What is the matter?" said Gupta, who had risen from his woman. "You cannot enjoy the pleasures of love with that ugly thing around your waist. Do it off, as she says!"
"I will not. Take your hands off it!" For Gupta had seized the belt on one side while Ratha, having risen, tried to grasp it from the other.
I jerked free from the pair of them, thoughts of love banished by a lively suspicion of my new friends. I cursed my stupidity in not having left the girdle in the care of Otaspes or Gnouros.
"Seize him!" yelped Gupta.
The five other men, all of whom had finished their rites, threw themselves upon me. I swung a blow at one that, had it landed, would have knocked him arse-over-turban into the Sipta. But in my drunken state I missed, and two of them threw themselves at my legs and brought me crashing to earth. I struggled, kicked, bit, and tried to get up, but they were too many.
'Turn him over," said Gupta. "One of you untie that belt."
"Cut his throat first," said an Indian, holding on to my right arm for dear life. "He is too dangerous; he might break loose."
"I fear you are right," said Gupta. "Dear me, where did I put that knife?"
"What kind of philosopher do you call yourself?" I yelled.
"A practical one," he replied, producing the knife and testing its edge with his thumb. "Since reason has led me to disbelief in the supernatural, it follows that morals are a human invention, to be observed only as a matter of expediency. With the folk among whom I live, I observe their code of morals faithfully enough to keep me out of serious trouble. This does not apply, however, to a foreigner like yourself, who will never be missed. Hence, since you have something I want and would not give it to me for the asking, my only logical course is to slay you and possess myself of your wealth."
"Was this whole party a plot to entrap me?"
"Why, of course! This meeting was not planned, as I implied to you, in advance but was made up on the spur of the moment. A clever move, if I do say so—"
"In the name of Shiva the Destroyer," cried one of the others, "slay him! You two would talk and argue all night, but we are tired of holding this monster."
"Ah, me, I suppose you are right," said Gupta. "It is a pity in a way; this giant barbarian is not without the power of reason. Tip your head back, my dear Eudoxos—"
A chorus of yells interrupted Gupta, and the next instant my limbs were freed. A mass of men in the yellow robes of Buddhist priests rushed out of the shrubbery and fell upon the erstwhile revelers, whacking them with bamboo clubs and screaming: "Base materialists! Vile sensualists! Cow-murderers!" and other epithets that only an Indian would think to use on such an occasion.
The seven women, who had resumed their skirts, ran off up and down the river. The men, however, were compelled to flee naked except for their garlands, leaving their meager garments behind, for they had not donned them before assaulting me. As I rolled to my feet and snatched up my tunic, I said to the nearest priest:
"I am the Ionian, Eudox—"
Whack! went the priest's pole, making me see stars. A couple of other blows landed before I broke out of the mellay. I think they caught Gupta and one other, but I did not wait to see. Albeit already winded from my struggle with the orgiasts, I ran for all I was worth. Here my long legs were my salvation, for, panting and staggering though I was, I still outdistanced my pursuers.
It was nearly midnight when I talked my way past the Bactrio-Greek guards at the Modoura Gate and rejoined Otaspes in our room. The Persian lit a lamp and exclaimed:
"By the Holy Ox Soul, Eudoxos, what happened to you? You have a beautiful black eye—"
"And other lumps and bruises," I growled. I told him a little about the orgy, without confiding my ultimate reason for seeking out Gupta. My flapping tongue had gotten me into enough trouble already.
Otaspes gave his silent laugh. "You certainly get into the damnedest things! But harken. We must leave Ozenê, early tomorrow."
"Why?"
"I have picked up more gossip. The hatred between Brachmanist and Buddhist is at the boil here, and it needs only a small event to make it spill oyer. If the Brachmanists revolt, the Bactrio-Greeks might be able to put them down. But I would not trust the Arjunayanas, who are Shiva-worshipers and brigands to boot. If they turn against Queen Indrani or if the Bactrio-Greeks desert—well, I shan't care to be here when it happens."
Gnouros snored heavily in a corner. "Is he all right?" I asked.
"All right except that he is sleeping off a hemp spree. You know Scythians; they burn the stuff and sniff the fumes. My Sakan friends put on a little orgy of their own."