That very same evening, an invitation arrived at the Wordsmiths stronghold for the Governor and the new monster-slaughterer to attend a Banquet of Celebration to be given by the Family Suet that very night. This gave Togura an attack of stage fright.
As Brother Troop was attempting to calm his nerves, the calm of the night was interrupted by a roar from the odex, followed by the manifestation of a dragon's head. Unfortunately, the head was very much alive. But, fortunately, it was not attached to any body, and consequently was soon dead.
'It's yours, boy,' said Brother Troop. 'Proof positive to all the world of your ability.'
'I can't claim it,' said Togura. 'I cannot tell a lie.'
That in itself was a lie, or at least an exaggeration; he could easily tell a small lie, and often had and did, but he was unable to tell a lie on such an exaggerated scale.
'You needn't say anything about it at all,' said Brother Troop. 'We'll have it carried to the Banquet of Celebration. If anyone asks about it, then murmer politely and say it's beneath your dignity to discuss such trifles.'
'That's excellent advice,' said Togura, struck by the brilliance of this idea. 'It's very kind of you.'
'Not at all,' said Brother Troop, dismissing his thanks with a wave of his hand. 'It's us I'm thinking of. We have to have the confidence of the community we live amongst. You're a valuable asset to us, boy. Do us proud.'
So it was that Togura went to the Banquet of Celebration in triumph, together with the dragon's head, which took pride of place at the dinner, occupying a table all to itself.
Togura was rather miffed when he discovered that the banquet was not to celebrate his own success at monster killing. It was, instead, to celebrate the engagement of young Roly Suet to the king's daughter, Slerma, and to announce the launch of a new coinage in bronze, gold and silver. The coinage would bear the head of King Skan Askander but would be backed by the assets of the Family Suet.
However, Togura's ego was boosted by the fuss the young and beautiful Day Suet made of her hero. She was a little puzzled about his new name. He explained the misunderstanding which had forced it upon him. And, as he brought proof positive of his abilities in the form of the dragon's head, she could not doubt his courage.
'You're a real man,' she said, breathing admiration.
'I'm growing up,' Togura concluded.
'Your father was round here earlier today, real man,' she said. 'He was talking of spanking you.'
'I doubt that he'll get the chance,' said Togura, really cool and collected.
'Yes,' said Day Suet. 'But it would be interesting to watch one real man spank another.'
'Minx!' said Togura, swatting her.
She evaded him, and laughed.
And, before very long, she had persuaded him to laugh with her.
They ate.
They drank.
They danced.
The musicians, robust and virile men, laboured and belaboured their instruments, pumping, hammering, stretching, scraping and churning, till their faces were beetroot-red and sweat poured down to their beards and their broad moustaches.
As Togura danced with Day, he dared, and she dared with him. Her breasts were soft. Her lips were hot and eager. Her eyes spoke just a little more than she would voice. His confidence grew. When he suggested they leave, she never asked him where. She led him to her room. As if in a trance, he stripped her to he skin. Her body, smooth and glabrous, glimmered in the light of a single candle. She closed with him, and gave him a drunken kiss. She smelt of sweat and musk, of perfume and spices, of hard liquor and youthful desire.
He undressed.
Standing before her, naked, he realised that now was the moment. Now he was really going to become a man. A real man. Initiated into the mysteries of the flesh. His desire was hard, urgent, swelling. He touched her thigh, lightly, finding it warm as new bread. Overwhelmed by her heat and aroma, he felt and irresistible imminence taking control of his flesh. Horror-struck, he tried to restrain himself.
He failed.
His male organ began to pump.
At the last possible moment, Togura clapped a hand to his cock, which pumped hot jism over his palm. That saved him from splattering Day from bosom to thigh with his semen. But the disaster was still absolute, unmitigated and irretrievable.
'Oh no!' he cried, in agony.
'What is it?' said Day.
Then, realising precisely what it was, she began to laugh. Blithe spirit that she was, she could not take this technical hitch seriously. She was puzzled when Togura began to ram himself into his clothes.
'Tog,' she said. 'No. Don't go. Tog, it's nothing. Talk to me, Tog. Tog. Wait!'
But, when she clutched at him, he broke free and fled, still fastening his garments. He was so embarrassed he could not endure her presence. He wanted to die. Or bury himself in a hole for half a thousand years.
He escaped to the autumn air and stalked through the streets, furious. Raging. Hating himself and the world and his own rebellious flesh. He had failed absolutely and miserably at a man's most important test. He was worse than nothing. He was disgraced. He would never be able to look Day in the face again. She knew!
When his half-brother Cromarty had accused him of being a day-dreaming masturbator, that had been bad enough. But he had been able to deny it with a straight face, even though it was true. After all, masturbation was furtively acknowledged or hinted at by many. But to fail with a woman!
Togura remembered Cromarty boasting about Toff the milkmaid:
'She was hot, boys. Hot, drunk and flat on her back. So I stuck it in to the hilt. Rammed it in. She loved it. She begged for more. I gave it.'
Everyone had their stories. Even Togura had his stories, though his were not true. (Could Cromarty's be untrue? He'd like to think so, but it was difficult. Cromarty was so brash, so arrogant, so confident.)
Brooding on his disaster, Togura grimly resolved that tonight would be the night, no matter what. He could never face Day again, but he would find a way. He would lose his virginity by morning, or die in the attempt.
Thus resolved, he bent his footsteps toward the townhouse of Melladona, one of the town's five whores, and rumoured to be the cheapest. She was awake and working; she had only lately discharged her last customer. He struck a bargain and paid.
He thought himself confident.
But when he actually saw her rancid flesh, her flaccid thighs, the fat veins snaking up her legs, the stale bruises and the odd blotched marks on her breasts, and the crinkling scar running from her neck to her naval, his courage failed. In her cold and narrow room, his worm disgraced him by shrinking to a cringing stump of flesh scarcely the size of a thumb.
He asked for his money back.
Melladona laughed, then, realising he was serious, attacked him. After he escaped into the street, she cursed him from the window. Trying to recover something from the debacle, he eased his ego by shouting a few well- chosen insults. Melladona responded promptly by emptying her chamber pot over his head.
Togura eventually washed himself off in someone's rain water barrel, then, sadder but not necessarily wiser, mooched through the night to the Wordsmiths' Stronghold. The gate was open, and someone, dressed in a winterweight coat and swaddled in a blanket, was sitting by the gate waiting for him.
'Togura Poulaan!' said Day Suet severely as he approached. 'So there you are at last. Well? Aren't you grateful to see me? Don't you realise you're lucky to see me at all? Running off into the night like that! Stupid fellow! Most girls would have given you away forever.'
'Day,' said Togura, not knowing what to say.
She had come for him. She was his. This must be true love! But, all the same, she was a source of mortification to him. She knew! Standing in the light of the gatelamp, he hesitated.
'Don't just stand there, stupid!' said Day, impatiently. 'Kiss me!'
Togura gathered her into his arms, and they kissed.
'Now take me inside,' said Day, 'And get me something to eat. It's cold out here, and I'm hungry.'
'I don't know if the brothers would approve,' said Togura.
