by John Norman
The pile of branches and driftwood was some twenty pasangs south of the camp of the men of Tyros.
The girls smiled at me, they were weary.
"To the edge of the forest, Slaves," I told them.
At the fringe of the forest, overlooking the sloping beach, covered with its stones, and, lower, with its sand, I found a strong, slender tree, with an outjutting branch some five feet from the ground, the branch facing away from the water.
"You will have the first watch," I told Tina. "You are to alert me to the presence of a sail or sails on the horizon."
"Yes, Master," said Tina.
I shoved her back against the tree.
"Put your arms over your head," I told her. "Now bend your elbows."
I tied each wrist separately, tightly, against the tree, looping the binding fiber about the tree twice, and twice over the outjutting branch. She stood, thus, facing the sea, her wrists tied back, against each side of the tree.
With another length of binding fiber I jerked her belly back against the tree, tying it there, tightly.
"If you fall asleep," I told her, "I will cut your throat."
She looked at me. "Yes, Master," she whispered.
I thrust some strips of tabuk meat from my wallet into her mouth.
"Eat," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
I also gave her some water from the guard's canteen.
"Thank you, Master," she said.
I looked at Cara.
"It will not be necessary to bind me," said Cara.
"Lie on your stomach," I told her, "and cross your wrists, behind your back, and your ankles."
"Yes, Master," she said.
I also secured her by the neck, by means of a thong, to a nearby tree.
I turned her over. "Open your mouth," I told her.
She did so.
I thrust some strips of tabuk meat into her mouth.
"Eat," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she said.
When she was finished, I lifted her in my left arm, giving her to drink from the canteen.
"Thank you, Master," she whispered.
I then lowered her to the leaves, rolled her over, checked the knots of her bonds, and withdrew.
I recalled how she had looked in the compartments of Samos, so long ago, when he and I had addressed our attentions to the board of the game, and while Rim, then a slave, chained, had watched.
I looked at Tina, tied, back against the tree, my slave. How long ago it seemed she had cut my purse in a street along the wharves of Lydius.
Both had been swept up, helpless slaves, both beautiful, in the harsh games of men.
But it was unimportant. They were only slaves.
I fed from the tabuk strips in my wallet, looking out to sea, and then drank from the canteen of the guard.
I was weary.
I returned to where Cara lay bound. She was helpless, and beautiful. She was slave. Already she was asleep.
I lay down on the leaves to rest.
I looked up at the branches, and the leaves, and then I, too, almost immediately, fell asleep.
I awakened only once before nightfall, to change the positions of Tina and Cara.
I wished Tina to be fresh. She was asleep even before I had thonged her neck to the tree.
* * * *
At nightfall I arose. I freed both Cara and Tina. I looked up at the moons. They rubbed their wrists, where my binding fiber had bitten into them.
I looked out to sea, across the vast, placid waters of Thassa, now bright with oblique moonlight. We three stood together on the beach, on the sands, among the stones, and observed Thassa, the murmuring, gleaming, elemental vastness, Thassa, the sea, said in the myths to be without a farther shore.
It seemed to me not unlikely that this would be the night.
"How beautiful it is," said Cara.
I saw no sails on the horizon, against the fast-graying sky.
I took water from the canteen, and ate strips of tabuk meat from my wallet.
The girls regarded me. They, too, were hungry and thirsty.
"Kneel," I told them.
When I had satisfied my thirst, there was little left in the canteen. I threw it to Cara. She and Tina then finished the bit of water remaining. When I had satisfied my hunger on the tabuk strips, there was but one left. I tore it in two and threw half to each of the girls.
They were Gorean girls, and slaves. They did not complain. They knew that they had been fed earlier in the day. They knew that, if it were not my will, they would not be fed at all.
Access to food and water is a means of controlling and training slaves, as it is of any animal.
I looked upward. The moonlight would not last for more than an Ahn. I was pleased.
Clouds, like tarns from the north, swept in some stratospheric wind, were moving southward. Their flight was black and silent, concealing stars, darkening the sky.
On the beach it was quiet, a calm night, in early summer.
What turbulence there was was remote, seemingly far removed from us, a matter only of clouds silently whipped in distant, unfelt winds, like rivers, invisible in the sky, breaking their banks, hurling and flooding in the night, carrying the intangible debris of darkness before them, soon to extinguish the fires of the stars, the swift lamps of the three Gorean moons.
What turbulence there was was remote. The night was calm, a still evening in early summer, rather warm. Somewhere, abroad on Thassa, concealed by the bending of a world, moved the Rhoda and Tesephone.
But they must be near. They had a rendezvous to keep.
I looked out to sea.
Thassa seemed now an unbroken vastness, where a black sky met a blacker sea.
We could hear her, restless.
"It is time," I told the slaves.
Together we picked our way down the beach, across the stones, across the soft sands, until we came to the side of the great accumulation of branches and driftwood which we had earlier prepared.
From my wallet I took a small, smooth stone and a tiny, flat metal disk.
I lighted a brand.
This brand I then thrust into the great pile of branches and driftwood.
Gorean galleys do not commonly sail at night, and, often, put into shore during darkness.
I expected, however, because of the dangers of the shores of Thassa, and the importance of their mission, the Rhoda and Tesephone, though they might lie at anchor, would not make a beach camp. Had I been the commander of the two ships I would have laid to offshore, coming in only when necessary for water or game. I would also, however, following common Gorean naval custom, have remained within sight of, or in clear relation to, the shore. The Gorean galley, carvel built, long and of shallow draft, built for war and speed, is not built to withstand the frenzies of Thassa. The much smaller craft of the men of Torvaldsland, clinker built, with overlapping, bending planking, are more seaworthy. They must be, to survive in the bleak, fierce northern waters, wind-whipped and skerry-studded. They ship a great deal more water than the southern carvel-built ships, but they are stronger, in the sense that they are more elastic. They must be baled frequently, and are, accordingly, not well suited for cargo. The men of Torvaldsland, however, do not find this limitation with respect to cargo a significant one, as they do not, generally, regard themselves as merchants or traders. They have other pursuits, in particular the seizure of riches and the enslavement of beautiful women.
Their sails, incidentally, are square, rather than triangular, like the lateen-rigged ships of the south. They cannot sail as close to the wind as the southern ships with lateen rigging, but, on the other hand, the square sail makes it possible to do with a single sail, taking in and letting out canvas, as opposed to several sails, which are attached to and removed from the yard, which is raised and lowered, depending on weather conditions.
It might be mentioned, too, that their ships have, in effect a prow on each end. This makes it easier to beach th
em than would otherwise be the case. This is a valuable property in rough water close to shore, particularly where there is danger of rocks. Also, by changing their position on the thwarts, the rowers, facing the other direction, can, with full power, immediately reverse the direction of the ship. They need not wait for it to turn. There is a limitation here, of course, for the steering oar, on the starboard side of the ship, is most effective when the ship is moving in its standard "forward" direction. Nonetheless, this property to travel in either direction with some facility, is occasionally useful. It is, for example, extremely difficult to ram a ship of Torvaldsland. This is not simply because of their general small size, with consequent maneuverability, and speed, a function of oarsmen, weight and lines, but also because of this aforementioned capacity to rapidly reverse direction. It is very difficult to take a ship in the side which, in effect, does not have to lose time in turning.
Their ships are seen as far to the south as Schendi and Bazi, as far to the north as the great frozen sea, and are known as far to the west as the cliffs of Tyros and the terraces of Cos. The men of Torvaldsland are rovers and fighters, and sometimes they turn their prows to the open sea with no thought in mind other than seeing what might lie beyond the gleaming horizon. In their own legends they think of themselves as poets, and lovers and warriors. They appear otherwise in the legends of others. In the legends of others they appear as blond giants, breathing fire, shattering doors, giants taller than trees, with pointed ears and eyes like fire and hands like great claws and hooks; they are seen as savages, as barbarians, as beasts blood-thirsty and mad with killing, with braided hair, clad in furs and leather, with bare chests, with great axes which, at a single stroke, can fell a tree or cut a man in two. It is said they appear as though from nowhere to pillage, and to burn and rape, and then, among the flames, as quickly, vanish to their swift ships, carrying their booty with them, whether it be bars of silver, or goblets of gold, or silken sheets, knotted and bulging with plate, and coins and gems, or merely women, bound, their clothing torn away, whose bodies they find pleasing.
In Gorean legends the Priest-Kings are said to have formed man from the mud of the earth and the blood of tarns. In the legends of Torvaldsland, man has a different origin. Gods, meeting in council, decided to form a slave for themselves, for they were all gods, and had no slaves. They took a hoe, an instrument for working the soil, and put it among them. They then sprinkled water upon this implement and rubbed upon it sweat from their bodies. From this hoe was formed most men. On the other hand, that night, one of the gods, curious, or perhaps careless, or perhaps driven from the hall and angry, threw down upon the ground his own great ax, and upon this ax he poured paga and his own blood, and the ax laughed and leaped up, and ran away. The god, and all the gods, could not catch it, and it became, it is said, the father of the men of Torvaldsland.
There was, of course, another reason why the commander of the Rhoda and Tesephone would keep within sight of the shore.
He had a signal to observe. He must not miss the beacon, which, somewhere along this lonely, sandy shore, in its hundreds of pasangs, would mark the position of Sarus and his men, Hura, and her women, and their captive slaves.
Even if he lay to, if he held his ships within ten or more pasangs, he would see our marker, that great blaze in the darkness of the night. And, seeing it, he would doubtless take it for the beacon of Sarus.
I looked at Tina. One side of her body was red in the reflected light of the great fire.
"Can you be attractive to men?" I asked.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Keep the fire high," I told her.
"Yes, Master," said the exciting little wench.
"Come with me," I told Cara.
I took Cara into the woods, a hundred yards or so from the forest's edge.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked.
I tied her wrists together behind her back, about a small tree. Then I tore off the tatters of her white woolen slave garment, ripping it into strips. I gagged her, tightly.
She looked at me, her eyes wild over the gag.
Then I left her.
I returned to the edge of the forest. Dimly, far off, across the water, I could see two lanterns.
I was satisfied.
I called to Tina, softly, from the shadows of the forest. She turned about and, unsuspecting, walked back to me.
In the darkness I took her, suddenly, by the arms and thrust her rudely up against a tree. She gasped.
"What is the duty of a slave girl?" I inquired.
"Absolute obedience," she said, frightened.
"What are you?" I inquired.
"A slave girl," she said.
"What is your duty?" I asked.
"Absolute obedience," she cried out.
I looked out to sea. The two lanterns were now closer.
"Kneel," I told Tina.
She did so immediately, frightened, her head to the ground.
Some four hundred yards away from shore, by my conjecture, the two lanterns stopped. There was then a third lantern, lower than the other two.
I took the slave whip from my belt and touched Tina on the shoulder with it.
She looked up, frightened.
"Please do not beat me," she whispered.
I held the whip before her. "Kiss the whip," I told her.
She did so, and looked up at me, pleading.
"Absolute obedience," I told her.
"Yes, Master," she whispered, terrified. "Absolute obedience."
"Here are your instructions," I said.
* * * *
"Ho there," cried the fellow leaping from the long boat, "it is only a wench."
"Protect me, Masters!" wept Tina. She had torn her tunic away from her left shoulder and ripped it to her waist on the left side.
She emerged from the darkness, and fell to her knees in the wet sand before the man in yellow who had leaped from the longboat. He held an exposed sword. Others left the boat, too, and looked about. They stood warily. Men remained at alternate pairs of oars. There were, altogether, sixteen men of Tyros, including he who held the tiller.
"Protect me, Master!" wept Tina. She knelt in the sand, her head down, trembling.
With the blade of his sword the fellow lifted her head, and turned it from side to side.
Tina was beautiful.
He sheathed his sword and, by the hair, pulled her to her feet and faced her to the fire. He rudely read her collar. "A wench of Bosk of Port Kar," he laughed. He thrust her from him, a yard or so, and examined her.
"Bosk of Port Kar," he said, "has a good eye for slave flesh."
"Stand straight, Girl," said another man.
Tina did so, and was examined by them, with the candidness accorded a female slave.
"I was stolen from Bosk of Port Kar," wept Tina, "by the terrible Sarus of Tyros."
The men looked at one another, exchanging amusements, glances. Tina did not seem to understand their tacit communication.
"I fled from him," she wept. "But there were sleen, panthers, in the forest. I was pursued. I barely escaped with my life." Again she fell to the sand at their feet, and pressed her lips to the foot of their leader. "I cannot live in the forest," she wept. "Take a miserable slave with you! Please, Masters!"
"Leave her here to die," laughed one of the men.
The girl trembled.
"Did you build this beacon?" asked another.
"Yes, Master," wept the girl. "I wished to attract the attention of any passing ship."
"Better the bracelets of a master than the teeth of a sleen?" asked one of the men of Tyros.
Tina kept her head down.
"Protect me!" wept Tina.
"Perhaps," said their leader.
"Only do not return me to the terrible Sarus," she wept. She raised her head. "You do not know him, do you?" she begged.
"Who is he?" inquired the leader, himself in the yellow of Tyros. The men behind him smiled.
&nb
sp; "I am fortunate," breathed Tina, "to have fallen in with you."
The men laughed, not pleasantly.
Tina shook with fright.
"Shall we take her with us?" asked the leader, laughing, of his men.
One of them, without warning, with a single rip that spun her fully about, tore her slave tunic away. She cried out in misery, her beauty revealed to them.
"Perhaps," said one of the men.
She stood on the sand, shuddering. Her beauty was drenched in the red of the flames.
"Stand proudly, Wench," commanded one of the men.
Tina straightened herself.
"Protect me," she begged.
"Our protection has a cost," said their leader. He regarded her, as did the others.
"Please," whispered Tina.
"It would be too bad," said the leader, "if beauty such as yours were torn to pieces by sleen."
Tina said nothing.
"I would rather," said their leader, "tear it to pieces myself."
Tina gasped.
"Lie in the sand before me, Slave," said the leader. He unbuckled his sword belt and dropped it to the side.
Tina lay in the sand before him, one knee raised, her head turned to one side.
"Each of us," said their leader, "will try you out, to see if you are any good. If any of us are dissatisfied, you will be left here for the sleen."
"A girl understands, Master," she said.
"How will you perform?" he asked.
"Superbly, Master," she whispered.
He pressed his lips to hers. And I saw her arms, as though eagerly, encircle his neck.
The men laughed.
Few of them noticed a log, some yards out in the water, move against the tide, out toward the dark shapes off shore.
My business on the Rhoda did not take long.
Within half of an Ahn I had left her again, lowering myself over the side. Again the men of Tyros, on the beach, did not notice the log, perhaps from some island or jutting point, washing into shore, some yards from them.
Tina was now kneeling at the side of the leader of the men of Tyros. She was holding his leg with her hands, breathing deeply, her dark hair loose over her shoulders, pressing her cheek against his thigh. She was looking up at him.
"Did Tina please you?" she asked.