That same late evening Svetlana had been called to Murka's tent, the bedroom of her new master. She walked from her sleeping quarters through the winding paths of tents to the red and blue curtain behind which he would be waiting for her at that advanced hour. Suddenly, Svetlana heard footsteps behind her and she turned. There, holding one of her sleeping children in her arms, was Dressa, herself looking tired and concerned.

            "You will be with him for the whole night," Dressa said in a whisper. "That is understood. And do not expect any of what you do this first night to be pleasant. But pleasure will come for you soon enough."

            Svetlana stood, frozen, not knowing how to respond. She just stared at the thick woolen curtain before her which was tightly closed and apparently tied from the inside.

            "I am here to warn you, slave . . . to accept all that Murka does in that room tonight and all nights . . . as only pleasure. His pleasure. . . .and sometimes yours. Later you will have the most delicious feelings a woman can have. But do not ever feel you can fall in love with him . . .Do you understand me?"

            Svetlana nodded slowly.

            "Forbid yourself . . .now and always to never have such a thought. For if I ever learn of it, Svetlana . . . I will destroy you while you sleep."

            Svetlana felt a sudden chill run down her back. She then nodded slowly once again. In the silent moment which followed, she felt compelled to reach out and lightly touch the sleeping little girl on the cheek. But Dressa pulled her back and forbade this.

            "Just call to him now, slave," she whispered loudly. "Tell him your name. He will open the curtain and take you to his bed."

            With this, Dressa turned and left Svetlana standing before the curtain in the dark.

                                              *     *     *

            Upon hearing her voice, Murka untied the thick woolen drapes and ushered Svetlana into his bedchamber. There was an immediate aroma of incense—a combination of mountain blossoms and musk. The large vases he had positioned around his bed each had a floating wick, as these vessels were filled with olive oil, and as lamps they could burn for days and nights when unattended.

            Svetlana wore the short dress-like chiton she had been instructed to wear these nights and followed her master diligently over to the mattress where she remained standing in the amber light. Her legs were bare and feet naked. Her golden hair had been brushed down full to her shoulders and her bare arms still showed a tint of sun from her daily morning strolls with Moshtok and her friends on horseback.

            "This night I want to be remembered by you Svetlana," Murka said festively, taking a seat on his massive matress. "As an evening of comfort . . . and, as I promised, no fear."

           Murka wore a white, finely woven top, open at the chest, with generous sleeves. Below it, he had a pair of soft leather pants and wore no sandals himself. He pointed to a small table near the bed. There was a golden bowl embossed with running leopards and two tall drinking vessels next to it which seemed iridescent blue and tourquoise in the low light.

            "Bring us the drinks and sit with me," he said in a soothing voice. It was absent of any commanding tone and hinted no dreaded expectations of her. Svetlana brought the tall vessels to the edge of the mattress and handed them to him. She then lifted herself up with some difficulty onto the waist-high bed. They sat across from each other and Murka handed her back one of the ceramic drinking vessels.

            He encouraged her to taste the cool beverage with him which smelled of honey, the juice of the pomegranate and had a soothing, fermented mint after taste.

            "You were not at the dance festival this evening, Svetlana, but I must tell you I was so very proud of my soldiers. How they showed the crowd their difficult steps. And in perfect order while they sang and drummed. How they gave our people the feeling of safety and protection."

            Svetlana smiled at him and could see he was sincere in wanting the best for the Pazyryk people, for whom he was now a hero. The drink was strong and soon made her feel relaxed and content. Murka told her how he had been fighting as a warrior on horseback since the age of fifteen and how he had risen to the position of commander in just a few years of raiding campaigns both to the east and the west.

            There was suddenly a strange sound which came from the corner of the room, seemingly from within a large box. Though she heard it clearly she noticed Murka did not respond to it, purposely. Again Svetlana heard the muffled squeaking and purring sound coming from the closed crate against the wall. Finally, when the sound could be hidden no longer, Murka smiled. He moved off the bed deftly and went over to the box.

            Svetlana watched with anticipation as he opened the lid and reached in to retrieve the noisy guest in the bedroom. When Murka lifted is hand out of the box he held by the nap of its neck, an all-while lion cub, now noisily complaining at Murka's grip and rotating its fat little paws playfully, demanding to be let down.

            Svetlana held her hands up to her mouth in surprise as her new master brought the soft, little cat to the bed and handed it over to her to hold. Seeing it was but the kitten of a lion, she now reached out fearlessly and took the soft but heavy little creature into both of her hands carefully. The pure white cub opened its mouth in a yawn and then showed its ambitious little teeth to her while attempting a pathetic growl. Both Murka and Svetlana laughed at its attempt to be ferocious. Svetlana cooed out in a gentle voice as she held the creature close to her face to feel its soft coat against her cheek.

            As she held the cuddly ball of fur close to her chest, she felt Murka's hand gently stroke her hair and shoulder.

            "She was brought to me by my men yesterday," Murka said. "Its mother was killed when it attacked one of my soldiers on his horse. The men didn't know the lioness had cubs. They gave me the pure white one out of respect. But I will let you care for her and raise her in your room if you wish. My children are too young and they are only afraid of her now. I have a soldier who will feed the cub and it will be kept outside in a large cage until she is old enough to be let go."

            Svetlana looked into Murka s eyes admirably. "You would you really do that for her?" She asked.

            "Of course," Murka said, taking the little growling complainer to put back in the box. "I am passionate about animals . . .  children, and unfortunately . . . beautiful women," he said, candidly.

            "That is not necessarily a problem," Svetlana said. "Depending on the way you treat us."

            He smiled. "Exactly."

            When Murka returned to the bed he reached up and touched her cheek tenderly. "And I have one more gift for you, this evening," he said.

            "Oh? And what is that?" Svetlana was feeling extremely relaxed and comfortable now in Murka's presence. She also was aware that she was not used to drinking the strong, fermented beverage the Pazyryk adults consumed.

            "Here . . . I will show you," he said. "Just lay down. . . on your stomach . . . and put your head on the pillow. Do not fear me, Svetlana."

           She slowly got into the comfortable position on the bed, laying prone, as Murka had suggested.

          Svetlana felt his strong hands rest lightly on her shoulders. They were warm and comforting. He began to slowly massage her neck and back, careful not to give any idea that he meant to molest or cause her anxiety. Svetlana felt as if her body would melt under his kind touches, as she had never felt a man's hands on her in this way before. And these were the lethal hands of a warrior and a hero. Yet they were light and affirming to her--that she should be comfortable above all else.

            "Do you feel safe?" he asked her in a quiet voice. "And do my hands give you pleasure?"

            Svetlana felt strangely content in this position on the bed, and as Murka's hands massaged deeper and more thoroughly over her, the once tense muscles of her entire body took on an even more delightful feeling. While sensing the warmth of Murka's hands covering her shoulders and torso so completely, she felt him slowly lift her chiton up off the back of her legs--and then slowly further up, exposing her buttocks and back.

        Though she wanted to protest this, she felt paralyzed to do so, simply by the pleasure his caresses were causing. At one point he paused, and while she thought he was questioning whether she wanted him to continue, she noticed he was actually gone momentarily. She looked over to see that he had brought the golden bowl which had been placed on the table near him now on the bed.

            As Murka gently lifted her dress up over her back completely she felt his hands, drenched in warm oil, cover her skin and glide across her lower back and thighs. A warm throbbing began to emanate from her buttocks up to her shoulders as he massaged more vigorously with both oiled hands, Pressing her more firmly down into the mattress. Underneath her body, Svetlana felt her breasts begin to buzz with a sensation she had never had. Her nipples were hard and sensitive against the bed, and as Murka massaged her thighs with the oil, his hand moved across the cleavage of her buttocks and up and down the length of her torso.

        As he did this Svetlana felt her body beginning to push uncontrollably up and down against the bed, until as his warm fingers finally slid beneath her. She felt them move in little circles covered with the oil, only adding to a wetness she had produced inexplicably herself. As this delicious movement seemed never to stop and grew in intensity, she felt him gently kiss the back of her neck while his one hand continued to move rhythmically beneath her.

            A sudden wave of pleasure began to unexpectedly radiate out across the entire landscape of her body. It moved from her center like a tremor. It grew rapidly in strength and threatened to burst in an explosion of pleasure. And as it finally did, the newness and sensations of it all overwhelmed her, causing her to shudder and gasp to catch her breath. Little ripples of that pleasure kept coming back to her thighs and buttocks as she quietly and helplessly awaited her body to recover. To stop moving by its own accord. Her breathing had been intense and did not calm itself for many moments. Murka all the while, patiently caressed her back with his fingertips as she went through a sensation she had never imagined could be so fulsome or so complete.

            As her breathing subsided and her thighs ceased to quiver, Svetlana hid her eyes from Murka in embarrassment. He only laughed and gently turned her face again toward him while he smiled. He then bent down and kissed her cheek sweetly.

            "You are like our little friend the lion," he said, pulling her dress back down over her back and wiping the oil from his strong hands. "So ferocious . . . and yet so much more to learn."

            Svetlana could not help but smile herself, and then modestly hid her face again, causing both to laugh. Murka removed his shirt and pants. He got onto the bed, and to Svetlana's surprise, just lay next to her, covering them both with a blanket. As she turned toward him to kiss his shoulder, she felt his warm chest against hers. Unmoving, they both fell into a deep and content sleep until morning. Murka had been so right in telling her the night would pleasant, and without fear. It was also to be one of the most memorable in her life.

                                             *     *     *