His cohorts rushed over, snarling with delight.

“Well done, Peter!” they cheered.

The man with the ragged ear grabbed the young woman roughly by the neck and dragged her from the dwelling.

“No! Setya!” the other women cried, lunging forward. The shepherds lashed out with their blades, holding them back.

Hearing the cries, the village men rushed toward the dwelling and, though unarmed, leapt upon the assailants. The villagers fought bravely but were soon thrown to the ground bruised and bleeding, no match for shepherds wielding rage and blades.

Those who had been injured writhed in the dust as the young woman’s cries split the air, then faded in the distance.

Eager to enjoy their spoils, the shepherds quickly put up a tent. Tying the woman’s hands behind her back, they threw her inside. Tumbling first to her knees, then to her back, she lay on the dirt floor trembling.

Removing the sash from his tunic, the man with the ragged ear stepped inside. The others wandered off to sit and smoke beside a pile of rock. Peter lifted his flute and began to play. They heard no sounds from the tent until the man with the ragged ear roared aloud. Then came the sound of two sharp slaps. Then silence.

Shortly afterward, the man emerged, his face sweaty and red. He stood outside the tent flap and retied his belt.

“Peter!” he cried.

Shocked to hear his name, the shepherd fumbled his flute. Slipping the instrument into his belt, he ran to his leader. When he arrived, the man swung an arm around Peter’s shoulders.

“Since you found her, you may have her while she is still fresh,” he said.

Peter stared agape. He wanted to protest but knew that would raise suspicions among his cohorts. To them he could not reveal his distaste for female flesh.

The man with the ragged ear slapped him on the back and pushed him inside.

Peter found the woman curled on her side, her teeth chattering. Her robe was pushed above her waist. Bloody handprints smeared on the insides of her thighs.

Peter winced. He wanted no part of her. Still he could not emerge from the tent without having done something. He could try to pretend otherwise but feared the woman might reveal his charade. Thinking this, his hands dropped to his belt. He stepped forward and nudged the woman onto her back with his toe. When she rolled over, her gaze rose into his.

“Why not be quick about it,” she hissed.

Peter glared down but said nothing. He had worked hard to elevate his standing among the shepherds and did not want to risk putting his status in jeopardy. Still in all their travels he had managed to feign his experience with women. And had avoided lying with one fully. But his cohorts had never been lingering just outside the door!

“What are you waiting for?” the young woman asked, squinting through the sting of sweat.