The Captain th-2

by John Norman

  “I will take her,” said Julian.

  “You, a thrall?” asked Abrogastes. “A thrall can own nothing.”

  “I am not a thrall, milord,” said Julian, firmly.

  Abrogastes looked to Otto.

  “He is a free man,” said Otto.

  “I am a citizen of the empire,” said Julian.

  “Kill him!” said a man, drawing his knife.

  “You are here in some ambassadorial capacity?” inquired Abrogastes.

  “No, milord,” said Julian.

  “And how have you been employed here?” inquired Abrogastes.

  “I have been tending pigs, milord,” said Julian.

  This announcement was greeted with laughter from the Drisriaks.

  “It is fitting,” said a man, “that those of the empire, whom we see fit to spare, should tend our pigs.”

  There was more laughter.

  “You are filthy, and barefoot, and in rags,” said Abrogastes.

  Julian went to kneel in the mud, next to the distraught Gerune. He lifted her head in his hands. He looked into her eyes, which were bright with terror, and tears.

  “You are well curved,” he said.

  “Dog!” she wept.

  “Do you want to die?” he asked.

  “What does it matter?” she asked.

  “You are right,” said Julian. “You are only a slave. What does it matter?”

  She regarded him, startled.

  “You are right,” he said. “It does not matter.”

  Tears sprang anew to her eyes.

  “Put the slut at the block!” said a man.

  The slave looked wildly about.

  “Do you want to die?” Julian asked her.

  “No,” she said.

  “Speak more clearly,” said Julian.

  “I do not want to die,” she said.

  “Speak more clearly,” he said, angrily.

  “I do not want to die-Master,” she said.

  “Ah,” said men.

  “It seems the slut learns quickly,” said a man.

  “They all do,” said another.

  Julian then stood up, and stepped back from the slave. “Kneel,” he said.

  The slave, bound, straggled to her knees.

  “Excellent,” said men.

  “You are well curved,” said Julian.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said.

  There was laughter.

  “Here,” said Julian, pointing to his feet.

  “Go, stupid slave, to his feet, and kiss them,” said a man.

  The slave, on her knees, moved to Julian, and put down her head, to his feet.

  “Aii!” said men.

  She then straightened up, and regarded Julian with awe.

  “I will take her,” he said.

  “Give her to him,” men urged Abrogastes. “Let her belong to a tender of pigs!”

  “She is yours,” said Abrogastes.

  “Thank you, milord,” said Julian.

  The slave collapsed to the mud near the feet of Julian.

  “I thought I knew her,” said Abrogastes. “I thought that she would require a strong and unflinching master. I see that any master will do.”

  “As you say, milord,” said Julian.

  Outside now there was a piercing whistle. It was the signal for returning to the ships.

  “You,” said Julian, pointing to the fellow who had, when he had learned that Julian was of the empire, drawn his knife. “Give me your knife,” said Julian.

  The man looked at Abrogastes.

  “Do it,” said Abrogastes.

  Julian took the knife and then crouched beside the slave.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “You are Gerune,” he said, naming her.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  He reached to her hair.

  “What are you going to do, Master?” she asked.

  “You have long, fine hair,” he said.

  It was blond hair, in two long, thick braids, which, had she stood, would have fallen to the back of her knees. It had never been cut.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “A slave,” he said, “does not need such long, fine hair.”

  “Master?” she asked.

  “Oh!” she wept, for he, gathering the hair together, in handfuls, cut it from her, close to the head.

  Then he stood up, and returned the knife to the warrior, who sheathed it.

  Gerune wept.

  “Such hair,” said Julian, “was more fit for a princess than a slave.”

  She put down her head, sobbing.

  “You are now more fit for lowly tasks,” said Julian.

  “Yes, Master,” she wept.

  Abrogastes stepped from the dais.

  Abrogastes made a sign to the workman, he who had wielded the adz, and to two warriors.

  “Remove the block and tray,” he said.

  “Yes, milord,” they said.

  The whistle sounded once more outside.

  Abrogastes looked about himself. He looked back to the dais. He regarded the trampled, muddied earth. He regarded the pools of blood, the broken reeds, the footprints. He recalled the vengeances, the slaughters and enslavements of the afternoon. He regarded the workman, his leather apron, and his arms, drenched with blood. He looked back to where Ortog had fallen. He looked down, at the bound slave.

  He then looked at this men.

  “It is good!” he said.

  He then, followed by his men, left the tent.

  Otto followed the others out.

  Julian, too, a moment later, left the tent. He carried a bound slave.

  “She is unconscious,” said Otto, considering the slave in Julian’s arm, her head back.

  “It is just as well,” said Julian.

  “She should give you much pleasure at the foot of the couch,” said Otto, regarding the slave.

  “I will see to it,” said Julian.

  The hoverer of Abrogastes was not far away, only some yards from the tent.

  Filchen scurried about, disturbed. Birds rose into the air, like protesting leaves in the wind. But, in a few moments, the birds descended again. And soon the filchen, too, wary, their tiny ears upright, their small, round eyes bright, creeping back, returned to their feeding.

  Julian looked up at the sky.

  “I think it would be well to conceal ourselves,” said Otto, “until we know the nature of the new arrivals.”

  “The woods?” said Julian.

  “Yes,” said Otto.

  They were now quite near the hoverer of Abrogastes.

  Already the lord of the Drisriaks was within the hoverer, his hands on the gunwales.

  “The tent, milord?” a man asked of Abrogastes.

  “Burn it,” said Abrogastes.

  A torch was lit.

  “We have found golden chains!” said one of the Drisriaks to Abrogastes.

  These would have been found, presumably, near the place of the challenge.

  “We have no time to concern ourselves with such things,” said Abrogastes.

  The man threw the chains over his shoulder, and hurried to a hoverer.

  A moment later the hoverer of Abrogastes rose from the turf.

  The slave, her body buffeted by wind and pelted with dust, stirred in Julian’s arms, but she did not recover consciousness.

  Otto and Julian watched the departure of the hoverer of Abrogastes.

  Within the hoverer, Otto surmised, though he could not make this determination, given the distance of the ship, the height of the gunwales, the armoring of the hull and such, would be a bound slave. Doubtless she would be, too, bound to metal rings, fixed in the plating of the hoverer’s deck. In any event that is a common way in which captives and slaves are secured in such a vessel. The arrangement not only keeps them fixed in place, which is fitting and desirable, but can, under certain circumstances, such as abrupt maneuvers, serve also to keep them literally within the vessel. She might be, as w
ell, gagged, in order that, in the event of engagements or violent actions, of one sort of another, her responses would be less distractive.

  Otto and Julian, the latter carrying the unconscious slave, made their way from the crowded area outside the tent, from the hurrying men, the assemblage of small ships.

  They returned to the trail, which would lead downward, past the grove.

  They paused on the height to look into the distance, to the meadow where the ship of Hendrix and Gundlicht had landed, that ship which had brought them to this world. It was a shambles of blackened steel.

  Behind them the tent was ablaze.

  Once again there was a piercing blast from the whistle.

  On the trail downward, they met two men, the shieldsman and the clerk, who were hurrying upward, that they might reach the hoverers before they departed. The clerk averted his eyes as they passed. The shieldsman, for a moment, just for a moment, met the eyes of Otto, and then he, too, hurried past.

  “Let us go to the woods edging the meadow,” said Otto.

  “Good,” said Julian.

  That portion of the woods, because of the destroyed ship, would not be likely to draw fire.

  In a short while, on the way downward, they came to a grove. Otto paused on the trail at that place.

  Then he continued on, followed by Julian.

  A quarter of an hour later they had crossed the meadow, and entered the woods.

  It was dusk now.

  One could still see a glow, and, in places, flames, from the height of the plateau.

  Hoverers, like dots, some in formation, rose from the plateau, and then moved eastward.

  Smoke, a darkness against a darkness, billowed upward.

  “We are safe now,” said Julian.

  They stood at the edge of the trees, looking upward, toward the trail, the grove, the height of the plateau.

  Behind them they had placed Gerune on the leaves.

  With a vine they had lashed together her ankles and, with the same vine, extended from her ankles, fastened her to a tree.

  She was still unconscious.

  “But we are stranded on this world,” said Otto.

  “I do not think so,” said Julian.

  “Oh?” said Otto.

  “No, my friend,” said Julian. “I do not think so. Rest now, if you wish, and I will watch.”

  There was a tiny whimper behind them, and they turned about. Gerune moved a little in the darkness. One could hear the crinkling of the leaves.

  “She is recovering consciousness,” said Otto.

  “Oh, oh,” moaned Gerune. Then she cried, “Oh!” and there was the sound of her ankles pulling suddenly against the vine which fastened her to the tree.

  “Be silent,” said Julian, going to crouch near the slave.

  She slid forward on the leaves, that she might sit upright.

  She looked at Julian.

  He took her head in his hands, holding her helplessly, and pressed his lips fiercely upon hers.

  She uttered tiny sounds of protest but they were muffled in the uncompromising ferocity of his kiss.

  Julian drew back.

  She looked at him, reproachfully.

  “Do you not know how exciting you are?” he asked. “Have you never been kissed before, as a slave? No, of course, doubtless not.”

  Few women, other than slaves, can guess what is the passion of a male.

  Few women, other than slaves, have any conception of the heights, the aggressions, the sheer power of uninhibited male passion.

  Once again he took her head firmly in his hands and pressed his lips against her.

  “Oh,” she said, suddenly, softly.

  Then suddenly she understood herself as what she was, a woman, the complement to this passion, its other, and her entire body seemed bathed in need and flame, and she squirmed in her bonds, his, and he drew back a little and she whimpered, protestingly, and thrust her head forward, pressing her lips timidly, fervently, to his, and then Julian took her by the shoulders and threw her from him, to her side, on the leaves, where she lay, her eyes wide.

  “Perhaps, later,” he said, “there will be time for a slave.”

  She lay there quietly then, helpless, spurned, discarded until wanted.

  She tried to understand herself and her feelings, her desires, her needs. She feared she might be going mad. Why had no one told her of these things? Were they so dangerous, really? Were they such dreadful secrets? She knew herself now, and this frightened her, terribly, a woman, and slave.

  She moaned a little, in her bonds.

  “Be silent,” said Julian.

  She sobbed, softly.

  “Sleep,” he said to her.

  She closed her eyes, and shuddered, and lost consciousness.

  “You, too, should rest,” said Julian to Otto.

  “I am weary,” said Otto, and lay down.

  It was toward midnight when Julian gently shook Otto awake.

  “What is it?” said Otto, quickly.

  “Look,” said Julian, standing, and pointing upward, to the west. “A light in the sky.”

  “What is it?” asked Otto, standing, looking to where Julian had pointed.

  “Wait,” said Julian, eagerly.

  “There,” he said, after a time.

  Overhead there was a set of lights, and a mighty shape moved among the clouds, a shape designed to enter and negotiate atmospheres, as well as traverse the depths of space.

  “What is it?” asked Otto.

  “It is an imperial cruiser,” said Julian.

  “There are other lights, too,” said Otto, looking upward.

  “It is an imperial fleet!” said Julian.

  CHAPTER 12

  Standing at the edge of the woods Julian and Otto watched the lights, approaching across the meadow.

  Some men were approaching, on foot.

  “They saw you,” said Otto.

  “Yes,” said Julian.

  An hour before, as a patrol craft had scouted the meadow, at an altitude of some thousand feet or so, Julian, waiting, having emerged from cover, caught in the beam of one of its searchlights, had lifted his arms, signaling the craft. He must have seemed small, and white, there below, signaling. The craft had blinked its lights twice, and then moved on.

  “They have seen us,” had said Julian, elatedly, returning to the wood.

  Now some men were approaching, carrying flashlights. They had dismounted from a hoverer, left on the other side of the meadow.

  “Excellent!” said Julian.

  “Be careful, do not be precipitate,” said Otto.

  “Have no fear, my friend,” said Julian.

  He withdrew a few feet into the darkness of the woods.

  “Oh!” cried Gerune, awakened by a blow, from the side of Julian’s foot.

  He bent down and untied the vine from the tree, that by means of which Gerune’s ankles had been secured to it. This left the other end of the vine, that which bound her ankles together, as it was.

  He then carried her, bound hand and foot, to the edge of the trees. There he put her down, on her knees.

  “See the approaching lights?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Men approach,” said Julian.

  Gerune squirmed a little, helpless in her bonds.

  “Those will surely be men from the empire, men from an imperial fleet.”

  She looked at him, wildly.

  “Do you wish to run away?” he asked.

  “I am bound hand and foot!” she said.

  “There is no escape for you,” said Julian. “And when you are branded there will be no doubt of it.”

  “You are not going to put me under the iron!” she said.

  “You are a slave,” said Julian. “Of course you will be branded.”

  She shuddered.

  The lights were closer now, rather in the vicinity of the shambles of the destroyed ship, coming across the meadow, now about one hundred yards away.


  “Listen to me,” said Julian, “and listen carefully.”

  She looked up at him, piteous, bound.

  “It is my recommendation,” said Julian, “that, if you wish to live, and not be tortured, and then nailed to a gate in some provincial town, that you conceal your antecedents.”

  “It is wise counsel, slave girl,” said Otto. “Attend your master.”

  “Remember,” said Julian, looking down at his bound slave, “you are no longer a princess. You are no longer the daughter of Abrogastes. You are no longer even a free woman. You are a slave. As a slave you have a name only by my will, that of your master. Too, as a slave, you are no longer of the Alemanni, or the Drisriaks or the Ortungs. You are tribeless. You no longer have a people. You have only masters. You are an animal, as much as a pig or goat. You are owned. You are property. You are a slave, and only a slave.”

  Her eyes were wide.

  “Do you understand?” asked Julian.

  “Yes!” she said.

  “Kiss my feet,” snarled Julian.

  Swiftly she put down her head to his feet, kissing them.

  “Lick them!” said Julian, watching the lights approach.

  “Yes, Master, yes, Master!” she sobbed.

  “Lift your head!” said Julian. She looked up, tears in her eyes.

  “We are now going to untie your ankles,” he said. “You will doubtless be ordered out first. You will go quickly, and be obedient.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  Julian freed her ankles, and then helped her to her feet. She stood, unsteadily, behind Julian and Otto. The lights, now, stopped.

  Julian, his hands raised, emerged from the woods. He was instantly caught in the beams of several of the lights. “Who are you?” called a man.

  “Julian, of the Aurelianii,” said Julian, proudly, “ensign in the imperial navy.”

  “Of the Aurelianii!” said a man.

  “Can it be truly he?” asked another.

  “Hold!” said a voice behind the lights. “We do not know it is he.” A light flashed past Julian, toward Otto and Gerune. They half closed their eyes against the blaze. “Who is with you?”

  “Two,” said Julian, “Otto, a barbarian auxiliary, and a female slave.”

  “Send the slave forth,” said the voice.

  “You will show them what you are, a slave,” said Julian.

  Gerune moaned.

  “You will hurry forth,” said Julian, “and kneel, head to the turf.”

  “Send forth the slave,” said the voice.