Chris knelt on the cold stone floor in front of the man who was
naked except for his sandals.  His priestly robes fell around his
knees, protecting him from the chilliness of the marble.  It was
his duty and his honor to prepare the sacrifice.

The antechamber of the Temple of the Bull God was quiet and still
with an expectant hush.  Only the smallest part of the sound from
the waiting crowd in the main temple penetrated here, and neither
the man nor the priest paid it any attention.

But then, the man was aware of very little.  He had been fed drugs
since the beginning of the day.  Preparing himself in holiness and
fasting for the presence of the god.  Already in a trance, he only
trembled slightly as Chris painted the marks of the bull god on his
legs, streaking the sides red-brown.  He did not look at Chris or
speak.  His eyes were far away.

The red-brown markings started at the man's ankles and continued up
to his hips.  Only on the outside, with no paint on the inside. 
His flanks were both striped and solid; striped to suggest hair,
solid to suggest hide.

The aphrodisiacs he had been given would take effect soon, Chris
knew.  The small shudders at his touch made that obvious.

When the representative of the god was led out into the marbled
hall to be presented to the people, he would be ready.  Ready to
seed any and all who wished to take part.  And there would be
plenty who wanted to partake of the god's fertility and power.

He would rut until even the drug could sustain him no longer and
then be fed a stimulant.

Sweating and shaking, the bull god would be run through the cobbled
streets, down toward the fields, the baying crowd behind and around
him.

And there a javelin through the chest would kill the god and,
dying, his blood would fertilize the fields.

Sometimes, the end was different.  Sometimes, the bull's heart
would give out.  Would burst from the ecstasies and exertion.  And
that was the holiest sacrifice of all.

The priest rose and scattered gold dust over the shoulders of the
unknowing man, the chosen sacrifice, the one born in the proper
time and proper place, the one who would take the place of the god
and die so that the famine would end and their people might live.

Chris kissed the forehead of his lover for the last time.  Removing
his lips, he took a gold-tipped brush and drew the sign of the bull
on his forehead.

Then he turned and led the avatar of the god to his fate.