The White King and the Seven Succubi

What a fickle and hapless creature is man! When the townsfolk realized that the king was not running away, they stopped their headlong flight and returned to the market. They marveled at the king's transformation, for he had changed from an impoverished hermit into a leader of men. So potent was his charism that when he began to issue orders, they obeyed without question.

The messenger had been running for two days and two nights. The king estimated that he had no more than a day and a half to prepare the town's defenses. Stripping off his shirt, he picked up a shovel and began to dig a trench. A dozen men joined him. The king explained the necessity of building a barrier to horses that would encircle the whole town. Watching carefully, he selected the most able among them and put him in charge.

Next, he gathered the remaining men and directed them to go into the forest, harvest whatever straight, slender hardwood trees they could find, and turn them into lances by sharpening their ends. Each man was to be armed with a lance and a knife, ax, or sickle. Those who had served in the army and possessed swords would become commanders. He divided the men into squadrons and assigned them to their respective officers.

The king turned his attention to the women. He scrutinized their faces in order to identify potential leaders. He selected one of them and instructed her to choose a sufficient number of women to shepherd all of the children, lead them into the forest, and encamp them in some place where they could not easily be found. He told the older children to cut branches from the trees nearby, to take a position in the rear of the group, and to brush away everyone's footprints and dispose of any other indicators of their passage.

He told the remaining women to arm themselves with kitchen knives and clubs, which they were to fashion out of any available wood. He counseled them to identify any of their family's possessions that might readily be set afire, remove them from their homes, and hide them far away from any buildings. With the time remaining, he instructed, they should feed everyone a substantial meal and set aside as many containers of drinking water as possible.

Dawn broke on the second day. The king inspected all of the town's defenses, ensured that his instructions had been followed, and spoke to each of the commanders, outlining for them how the coming battle was likely to unfold and what they should do in response. Then he took up his staff once more, climbed onto the roof of the tallest building, sat down, rested as much as he was able, and waited. He did not have to wait for long.

The earth began to shake, and from the direction of the previous town, the thunder of hooves was heard. The king saw panic rising in the people's faces again. So he began to sing his favorite war song. After a few repetitions, the men joined him, and before long, the entire town was singing. It bolstered their courage and enabled them to steel themselves for battle.

A large cloud of dust issued from the forest, and from within it, hundreds of mounted warriors emerged and galloped toward the town. The king had explained that their seeming helplessness would be the townsfolk's best defense; for the advancing soldiers were likely to be overconfident. They would be careless, and that would make them vulnerable. On they came, screaming their war cries. Suddenly, they saw the pit that had been dug in their path. The soldiers in the first rank attempted to rein in their horses, but the horses in the second rank kept pressing forward. One by one, the rows of soldiers recognized the trap that had been set for them, but one by one, they failed to stop their horses in time. The hapless animals stumbled, broke their legs, and piled upon one another, throwing their riders onto the ground; and from behind the nearest buildings, the defenders poured out and began to slaughter them.

The king leaped onto the street and ran toward the townsmen. Taking a position in their midst, he swung his staff right and left, knocking down turbaned soldiers who then quickly were dispatched by the men of the town. The horses' flailing hooves crushed the skulls of many soldiers. It became difficult for the attackers to get past the trench in order to engage the townspeople. In the meantime, the defenders thrust at them with their homemade lances, killing many.

Back and forth the battle raged. The invaders would cross the trench and push the defenders into town; but the king would rally the men and push the attackers back across the battle line. For every townsman that fell, a dozen turbaned warriors perished.

At last, after many hours of fighting, the general of the invading army signaled his trumpeter to sound retreat. And the monotheists, badly beaten, turned and ran back up the road.

The king dispatched runners to neighboring towns. The runners explained the defensive strategy that had won the day. Town by town, the countrymen stood against the attacking army and defeated them. Eventually, the monotheists aborted their invasion and disappeared back into the desert.

ξ

The town at the foot of the White King's mountain erupted in raucous celebration. There was dancing and much consumption of fermented cider. The townspeople gathered around the

king. The men pummeled him on the back and shook his hand; the women kissed him. A contingent of elders approached and declared that they wanted him to become the town's mayor. But the king warded off all such accolades with a smile and a wave of his hand. He knew the pitfalls of power; how it tempts and corrupts. He didn't want it any more. He permitted himself the luxury of one drink, gratefully accepted a freshly baked loaf of bread from one of the women, and wearily trudged up the mountain and into his cave. Then he lit a fire and consumed the bread. A good day. It had been a good day, indeed.

The interior of the cave transformed itself into a magnificent bedchamber. Never in his long tenure as king had he seen so splendid and opulent a place. At its center was a gem studded bed with sheets and pillow cases of the finest satins. Incense burned in brass dishes suspended by gold chains from wrought fixtures on the walls, and chandeliers filled with candles lit the room.

Standing by the bed, awaiting him, were seven blue skinned, black clad succubi, their wings neatly folded against their backs, their long tails waving sinuously. Arial, Daphne, and Venus approached and kissed him warmly. Ariadne led him by the hand and introduced her three remaining sisters, Magdalena, Marianne, and Artemis.

Then Mother Bat materialized before him and presented him with a sword of the finest Damascus steel in a carved, gilded scabbard.

"You, oh king, have passed all three of the tests with which I challenged you. Today, you have conducted yourself honorably and, through your leadership and valor, have preserved many lives. The gods are pleased. We have awarded you this palace, which is perched on a granite promontory far to the north of your former kingdom, where you may live out your life in comfort, served by these, your seven granddaughters."

The king was dumbfounded. He had presumed that, upon his being banished by Mother Bat, his daughter's newborn babies would have been killed by vengeful kings whom he had wronged. Overcome with joy, the king sank to his knees and thanked the goddess.

"And now," she said, "enjoy a night of sexual bliss such as you have never imagined." And the seven succubi, giggling in anticipation, seized him, removed his clothes, and deposited him on the bed.

The End

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Illustrated Erotic Desert Fairy Tales by Raymond Descheneaux:

Sexual Practices of Al-Kharijah

Little Red Riding Veil

The Three Little Piglets

Golden-Hair and the Three Bears

The White King and the Seven Succubi

Hani and Ghayda

The Three She-Goats

Jamila and the Baobab Stalk

The Last Days of Al-Kharijah