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shouts and the sound of running
feet.
    'Who is
there?' men shouted. 'Who is watching our private ceremony?'
    'Who has dared
break the code of Pelador?'
    Within seconds
Sappho was surrounded by angry men. They pushed the young man aside
and grabbed her roughly. She tried to struggle free, but it was
hopeless. They ripped her robe from her, exposing her nakedness to
the eyes of all, and holding her arms they marched her between the
staring congregation and down to Pelador.
     
     

Chapter 4
Pelador's
anger
     
    Sappho stood
naked amidst the blood-smeared girls. She trembled as Pelador
approached. His mask was in the image of a ram's head. It had empty
eyeholes and huge, rough, curling horns. The ram's fleece covered
his back and was tied at his neck. Otherwise he was naked. His
genitals were large, a pendulous penis hanging between two huge
testicles supported in a stretched and venous scrotal sack. Sappho
shivered when he stood close before her.
    He cocked his
masked head from side to side, looking her up and down, sniffing at
her like an animal, prodding her with a bloodstained, outstretched
finger.
    No one spoke.
No one moved. Pelador stepped back and angrily shook the glinting
knife in the air.
    'You dare to
defile our ceremony to Apollo?' he screamed. 'You have tainted our
sacrifice. Our god, Apollo, will be angry. He will need something
more to placate him for this sacrilege. What is your name?'
    'I am...' she
hesitated. She could not speak. She was too afraid. The men holding
her tightened their grip and shook her insistently. She took a deep
breath and tried again. 'I am, Sappho, sir. Daughter of
Philoctetes. Sir, I meant no harm. I—'
    'Meant no
harm?' screeched Pelador. 'You have entered the sacred ceremony of
Apollo! You have caused grave harm. And you will be punished. Here
and now, you will discover what harming the god Apollo means! Bring
her! Fetch the Chinese Master Wang. Prepare for the ceremony he
learned from the Japanese of the east. Inform him that we wish the
ceremony of Buk-ka-ke.'
    Sappho was
dragged to the centre of the sunken temple floor. The dead ram was
removed from the altar block. Glistening pools of blood soaked the
smooth marble surface, and shone in the twinkling light of the
candles that surrounded it. Sappho trembled as she was led to the
altar. She did not know what to expect, and the unexpected filled
her with fear.
    She struggled
as they lifted her onto the altar block. She felt the now cold
blood against her back as they forced her down. Her legs bent at
the knees and hung over the end of the short altar. Her arms
trailed at the sides. Her head hung backwards over the other end,
stretching her throat and allowing her long hair to touch the
ground. The men parted her knees, opening her legs to expose her
slit. They tied ropes around each ankle, winding them methodically
and carefully six times before knotting them, then pulling the free
ends into iron rings that were bolted to the floor. They pulled her
wrists down at the side of the massive marble block, wound ropes
around them, this time eight times, and pulled them down into more
iron rings at the side. They pulled her full auburn hair together
and wound it tightly into a rope. They led it back and pulled the
end securely into another iron ring. It held her head firmly in
place, hanging down over the edge of the altar.
    Everything she
saw was upside down and the flickering lights, the scents, the
chanting and the weaving naked bodies of the blood-smeared girls
all added to her confusion and dread.
    A small man,
dressed in an embroidered silk robe, came and stood at the head of
the altar. His long, twisted moustache reached down onto his chest
and his talon-like fingernails were as long again as his fingers.
He reached into the air and cried out in a shrill, high-pitched
screech.
    'Buk-ka-ke!
Buk-ka-ke!'
    Sappho sensed
the air of excitement around her and shuddered with fear. She saw
the men rushing around the altar, shouting wildly as