Down below the two policemen, Sister Em was indeed starting the fun. Throwing back her head, she raised her hands to the sky and cried to the heavens. “See us, Pan, from the ethereal plane, as we parade in your pasture and usher in your dawn!”
Following Em’s declaration, the twelve followers of Pan began to circle the fire, arms raised skywards. The only exception was Brother Duncan. He continued his musical accompaniment on the panpipes, tightly gripping them in both hands lest he got caught by a flailing elbow of Sister Em in front of him, who was prone to a bit of freestyle spinning when caught up in the spirit of the occasion.
Behind him, Brother Patrick, who was both easily distracted and rather high on marijuana, considered how great it would be to have an ethereal plane. Then he wondered how you would land one without breaking your legs.
Before he could worry about how an ethereal plane could carry you in the first place, Patrick was counter-distracted when, after one and a half revolutions, Anthony cried out and started hopping about on his left foot whilst clutching at the toes on his right.
The others looked at each other and exchanged a few bemused shrugs. Not wanting to make their leader any more angry and suspecting that this was a new, “improved” part of the ritual, they also began to hop and make pained sounds.
The sight of Em jiggling about in the altogether and moaning was too much for Duncan. Whilst trying to setup some ambitious harmonics, the pipes slipped from his grasp. Instead of landing softly in the grass, however, they clattered off something unexpectedly solid.
The cessation of the Celtic moods, combined with the realisation that the obscenities streaming forth from Anthony’s lips would not be particularly pleasant even for the great pagan goat god, cut the ritual off in what Dawn considered to be its naked frolicking prime. Gradually, the jiggling stopped and the arms were lowered. As one, they turned to Anthony.
“My toe!” cried the Grand Master, still hopping. “I stubbed my bloody toe!" (The little piggy that went to the abattoir.)
Anthony stopped hopping and slowly collapsed backwards into the grass, clasping his injured foot. "I think it’s broken.”
Duncan, quickly trying to retrieve his pipes before Anthony turned his anger on him, pointed at the small mound that his instrument had just bounced off.
“Look!" he yelped, his voice breaking in excitement. "There’s a small rock or something. You must have kicked it.”
Duncan stood, pointing and beaming. It had been Sister Toni's turn to perform the ritual of cleansing and to check for unwelcome debris earlier that morning. He was going to avoid Anthony's temper for a little longer, at least. With any luck, Anthony would ultimately find some way to point the finger of blame at A - he usually did.
"I'm pretty sure it wasn't there earlier," Toni told them, craning her neck forward to look. “I’m sure I would have spotted that.”
“It’s a miracle!” cried Sister Dawn in a vain attempt to reinitiate the naked frolicking.
Em did not seem quite so pleased with Duncan’s pronouncement. She did not really believe in miracles but neither did she believe that her sister would screw up. She stepped forward for a closer look.
“That’s no rock," she said, after a moment's scrutiny. "It’s moving! Look!”
Duncan frowned and looked closer for himself. Sure enough, the lump was moving very slowly through the long grass towards the campfire. “What is it?”
By now, all twelve of them were peering through the murky pre-dawn light at the mobile mound. Even Anthony had stopped cursing and hobbled over to investigate. It was at that moment that the sun finally peered over the eastern horizon, bathing the scene in a crisp, clean light.
“Blow me!” said A, turning to Brother Peter next to him. “It’s a tortoise!”
Sure enough, sunlight was now glinting off of what was quite clearly a tortoise shell. The animal was still making slow but steady progress towards the centre of the group and, as yet, seemed totally disinterested in the naked humans that surrounded it. In total contrast, the worshippers of the goat god were wholly absorbed with their reptilian gatecrasher. Duncan had even stopped watching Em out of the corner of his eye.
There was a moments shocked silence before Grand Master Anthony, who was slowly regaining composure and sensed the need to re-assert his authority, spoke up. "I don't know about a miracle but it's certainly not natural. Tortoises are not indigenous to this part of the world."
"You're right there," agreed Brother Dave, who had been working on local farms since he was a boy. "I know these fields better than anyone and there ain't no tortoises running around normally"
“What’s he doing here?” asked Brother Patrick, all thoughts of ethereal transport driven from his mind. He glanced at his fellows. “Where did he come from?”
“Search me!” declared Brother Peter, defensively. “He’s not one of mine!”
“Look’s like he’s heading for the fire,” observed A, as a small argument broke out of the meaning of the tortoise's appearance.
He was right. The tortoise was indeed heading straight at the fire, like a very slow heat-seeking missile.
“It’s the sign of the self-immolating tortoise!” Anthony declared, determined to regain control of the situation. “An omen from Pan himself.”
“Hooray!” cried sister Dawn. “Let’s frolic naked in celebration!”
Brother Patrick frowned at the group leader. The frown had formed earlier, when his easily-distracted brain had found itself mentally searching the naked Brother Peter. He had not enjoyed the experience and was quick to put the frown to good use.
“There is no sign of the self immolating tortoise,” he told Anthony.
“There could be after tonight!” Dawn enthused.
Sister Toni looked horrified at the suggestion. “We can’t let the poor thing burn itself!”
Sister Em agreed with her biological sister. (Together, they had formed a local mixed interest society called RAVEN – the Ravenhill Anti-Vivisection Existential Nudists. They believed quite firmly in personal responsibility for one’s actions and the creation of one’s own moral values through freedom of choice, so long as that choice involved being nice to animals and, whenever possible, in the altogether. They had been attracted to Anthony’s group that worshipped Pan partly because he was the goat god but mainly because they shared Dawn’s desire to frolic naked.)
“Somebody stop it!” she cried.
Duncan, who would gladly risk singing his privates to impress Em, jumped forward and placed his panpipes as a barrier between reptile and its conflagration. (He had been attracted to Pan’s People partly because he had originally thought he was auditioning for the reformation of the 70’s pop sensation but mainly because he shared Em’s desire for Em to frolic naked.)
Unable to progress, the tortoise stopped and eyed each of the disrobed devotees in turn. It opened its mouth as if to speak. Twelve necks craned forward to listen. Then the tortoise exploded.
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