Eighth Circle

'He might indeed,' Tom chortled.

'But that wouldn't make him a bad person.'

'Certainly not, Crispin.'

'I think my sister Liala's inner mammalian brain might have missed out on the treatment,' Crispin confessed. 'She's not a bad person.'

'She is a fine young lady,' Tom said. 'I met her on the island. Unfortunately, some orcas arrived before we could get to know one another.'

On a sudden impulse Crispin reached out a hand.

'Professor. Father wants to speak to you.'

***

The heads in jars seemed preoccupied with other things. Tom got few looks of recognition as he made his way past them. He hadn't liked them on his first visit and found them totally repulsive now.

A stench of evil hung in the air. It wasn't difficult to imagine what thoughts went on in their perverted minds. Each had a string of surrogates at his or her command. Earlier, he had seen trolls butchering one another for their amusement. Hunting humans as a sport wasn't out of bounds and turning young women into sex slaves was regarded as quite normal.

His mind turned to Crispin. The young man was guiding him through the rows and alleys, head held high, eyes to the fore, never once glancing at the jars. He kept up a steady pace and didn't stop until they reached the far end of the building.

Suddenly everything changed. In just a few paces the sense of evil was replaced by a warm glow. Crispin quickened his pace and entered a small alcove. Its walls were green, rather than blue, and the atmosphere was totally different.

Tom felt a benign presence. It filled the air and seemed to radiate from a jar that stood on an ornate stand at the rear of the alcove. He had always believed that beauty was in the mind of the beholder. There could be no better proof. While most people would find the sight repulsive, he felt the exact opposite. The face in the jar radiated wisdom and compassion.

Its thin lips creased into a smile.

'Welcome to my small abode, Professor.'

There was a touch of humour in the voice.

'Your majesty.' Tom bowed.

'Such respect, Professor.' The smile grew bigger. 'I have not been addressed in such terms for over three centuries.'

'Your son, Prince Crispin, informed me that you were once king.'

'Yes. Thomas. I was once a king. Now I am a once-and-ever king. I am not properly alive and they won't allow me to die.'

'A bit like King Arthur.'

'Yes. Thomas. A bit like King Arthur.'