Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt
Page 16
he said. I nodded. What he had said was true. "But surely," I said, "you will
not dare, an outlaw, attend the Thing ?" "Perhaps," said Ivar. "Who knows ?" He
grinned "Then," said he, "if I should survive, we will hunt Kurii." "I hunt on]y
one," I sal'd. "Perhaps the one you hunt," said Ivar, "is even now within the
holding of Thorgard of Scagnar." "It is possible," I said. "I do not know." It
seemed to me no~ unlikely that the Forkbeard's speculation might be true. But I
had no wish to pursue Kurii at random. "How will you know the one ofthe Kurii
whom you seek ?" Ivar had asked me, in his hall. "I think," I had said, "he will
know me." Of this I had little doubt. I was certain that the Kur which I sought
would know me, and well. I did not know it, but I did not think that would make
much difference. It was my intention to hunt openly, and, I expected, this
understood, my quarTy, hunting, too, would find me, and, together, we would do
war. It had doubtless been its plan to lure me to the north. I smiled. Surely
its plan had been successful. I looked at the holding-of Thorgard of Scagnar. If
the Kur within it were he whom I sought, I had little doubt but that we should
later meet. If it were not it which I sought, 145 I had, as far as I knew, no
quarrel with it. But I wondered what it might be doing in the holding of
Thorgard of Scagnar. The Kurii and men, as far as I knew, met only in feeding
and killing. "Let us go," said I to Ivar Forkbeard. "Oars," said he, softly, to
his oarsmen. The oars, gently, noiselessly, entered the water, and the boat
moved aw.~y, into the darkness. There was a small sound, from the fetters on the
prone girl's wrists. The Forkbeard will attend the Thing "MyJarl!" cried Thyri,
running into my arms. I lifted he and swung her about. She wore the k;irtle of
white wool, th riveted collar of black iron. I drank long at the lips of the
bond-maid. About me I heard the joyous cries of the men of Ivar' farm, the
excited cries of bond-maids. Ivar Forkbeard crushed to his leather Pudding and
Gunn hild, kissing first one and then the other, as each eagerl~ sought his
lips, their hands, too, those of bond-maids, eage; upon his body. Other
bond-maids pressed past me to greet favorite among the oarsmen of Forkbeard's
serpent. Behind Forkbeard, and to his left, her head high, disdain ful, stood
Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scag nar. The men, and the
bond-maids, many in one another'~ arms, fell back to regard her. She stood
behind the Forkbeard, and to his left. Her back was quite straight; her head was
in the air. She was nol fettered. Her dress of green velvet, trimmed in gold,
she still wore; it was torn back from the collar, as the Forkbeard had done in
Scagnar, revealing the whiteness of her throat, hinting at the delights of her
bosom; the gown, however, now, was discolored, stained and torn; much of the
trip she had been fettered, her belly to the mast; also, on ~he right side, it
was torn to the hip, revealing her thigh, ca1f and ankle; this had happened
when, on the voyage, she had been 147 put on the oar; her hose and shoes had
been removed in Scagnar. She stood proudly. She was what the Forkbeard
had-sought; she was his prize. "So that," said Ottar, his hands on his heavy
belt, inlaid with gold, "is Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!"
"Gunnhild is better!" said Pouting Lips. "Who is Gunnhild?" asked Hilda, coldly.
"I am Gunnhild," said ~unnhild. She stood proudly on the arrn of the Forkbeard,
the white kirtle split to her beliy, the black iron at her throat. "A
bond-maid!" laughed Hilda, contemptuously. Gunnhild stared at her, in fury.
"Gunnhild ;s better!" said Pouting Lips. "Strip them and see," said Ottar. Hilda
turned white. The Forkbeard turned about and, one arm about Pudding, the other
about Gunnhild, started from the dock. Hilda followed him, to his left. "She
heels nicely," said Ottar. The men and bond-maids laughed. The Forkbeard
stopped. Hilda's face burned red with fury, but she kept her head high. Pet
sleen are taught to heel; so, too, sometimes, are bondmaids; I was familiar with
this sort of thing, of course; in the south it was quite common for slave girls,
in various fashions in various cities, to heel their masters. Hiida, of coursej
was a free woman. For her to heel was an incredible humiliation. The Forkbeard
started off again, and then again stopped. Again, Hilda followed him as before.
"She is heeling!" laughed Ottar. There were tears of rage in Hilda's eyes. What
he said, of course, was true. She was heeling. On his ship the Forkbeard had
taught her, though a free woman, to heel. It had not been a pleasant voyage for
the daughter ~f Thorgard of Scagnar. She had been, from the beginning, fettered
with her belly to the mast. For a filll day, too, the coverlet had been left
tied over her head, fastened by the 148 twice-turned, knotted scarf about her
neck. On the secon day, it had been thrust up only that the spike of a water ba~
could be thrust between her teeth, and then replaced; on he third day the
coverlet was torn away and, with the scar~ thrown overboard; Ivar Forkbeard, on
that day, watered he~ and, with a spoon, fed her a bit of bond-maid gruel.
Starving she had snatched at jt greedily. ' How eagerly you eat the gruel of
bond-maids," he had commented. Then she had refused to eat more. But, the next
day, to his amusement, she reachedl forth her mouth eagerly for the nourishment.
On the f~th day, and thereafter, for her feedings, he would tie her ankles and
release her from the mast, her wr1sts ~hen tettered before her, that she might
feed herself. After the fifth day he fed her broths and some meats, that she
might have good color. With the improvement n her diet, as was his expectation,
something of her haughtiness and ~emper returned. On the eighth day he released
her from the mast, that she mlght waLk about the ship. Atter she had walked
about, he had said to her, "Are you ready to heel?" "I am not a pet sleen!" she
had cried. - - "Put her to the oar," had said the Forkbeard. Hilda, clothed, had
been roped, hand and foot, and body,on her back, head down, to one of the
nineteen-foot oars. "You cannot do Ihis to me," she cried. Then, to her misery,
she felt the oar move. "I am a free woman!" she cried. Then, like any bond-maid,
she found herself plunged beneath the cold green surface of Thassa. The oar
lifted. "I arn the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!" she cried, sp~t~ln~ wa-er,
half blinded. Then Ihe oar dipped again. When it pulled her next from the water,
she was ciearly te~ified. She had swallowed water. She had learned what any
bond-maid swi~tly learns, that one ~ 149 must apply oneself, and be rational, if
one will survive on the oar. One must follow its rhythm, and, as soon as
th~surface is broken, expel air and take a deep breath. In this fashion a girl
may live on the oar. For a time the Forkbeard watched her, leaning on hi elbows,
on the rail, but then he left the rail. He did, however, have Gorm watch her,
with a spear. Twice in the afternoon Gorm struck away sea sleen frorn the girl's
body. Once he thrust away one of the white sharks of the northern waters, The
second of the sea sleen it had been which
, with its sharp teeth, making a
strike, but falling short, had torn away her green velvet gown on the right side
from the hip to the hemline; a long strip of it, like a ribbon, was in its teeth
as it darted away. She had not been on the oar for half an Ahn when she had
begun to beg her release; a few Ehn later, she had begun to beg to heel the
Forkbeard. But it was not until evening that the oar lifted, and she was
released. She was fed hot broths and fettered again tO the mast. The Forkbeard
said nothing to her, but, the next day, when the sun was hot on the deck, and he
released her for her exercise, and he waIked about the deck, she, though a free
woman, heeled him perfectly. The crew had roared with laughter. I, too, had
smiled. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Ths)rgard o~ Scagn~r, had been taught to
heel. Ivar Forkbeard left the dock, his arm~ about Pudding and Gunnhild, who
leaned against him. Hilda, head high, followed him. Pouting Lips rall beside
her. "Gunnhild is better!" she cried. Hilda paid her no attention. "Thick
ankles!" said Pretty Ankles. "She has a rowing bench inside her gown," said Olga
"Broad in the beam!" laughed another girl. Suddenly, in fury, Hilda struck at
them. The Forkbeard turned about. "What is going on here?" he asked. "We were
telling her how ugly she is," said Pouting Lips. 150 "I am ~ot ugly!" cried
Hilda. "Remove your clothing," said the Forkbeard. Her eyes widened with horror.
-"Never!" she cried. "Never!" The men and bond-maids about laughed. "You have
taught me to heel," she said, "Ivar Forkbeard, but you have not taught me to
obey!" "Strip her," said the Forkbeard to the bond-maids. They leaped eagerly
upon Hilda the Haughty. In moments the proud girl, naked, was held before the
Forkbeard. Olga held one arm, Pretty Ankles the other. "Gunnhild is better,"
said Pouting Lips. It was true. But Hilda the Haughty was a superb piece of
female flesh. In almost any market she would surely have drawn a high price. She
struggled, held. She had a fair throat, good shoulders; she was marvelously
breasted; her waist was such that one could get his hands on it well; she n~ight
have been a bit broad in the beam but I had no objection to this; in the north
it is called the love cradle; it was well adapted to cushion the shocks of an
oarsman's pleasure; in the south she would have been said to be sweetly hipped;
if the Forkbeard wished to breed her she would bear healthy, strong young to his
thralls, enriching his ~arm; her thighs, too, were lovely, and her calves; her
ankles, while not thick, as Pretty Ankles had asserted, were heavier than those
of Thyri, or Pretty Ankles herse~; Hilda was, of course, a somewhat large~ girl;
she was probably some five years oider than Pretty Ankles, and a year or so
older than Thyri; Gunnhild was larger than Hilda; she was also, I ex~?ected,
about a year or two older. I had no objection to Hilda's ankles; I found them
quite lovely; they would take a common girlf~tter nicely, with about a quarter
inch tolerance. Then Hilda stopped struggling and, held, head high, regarded the
Forkbeard. He examined her with grloat care, as he had his Sa-Tarna, and his
animals, when he had inspected his farm. He got up from his knees, where he had
been feeling the 151 firmness of her left calf and ankle. Then he said to the
bond-maids, "Take her to the whipping post. The bond-maids, laughing, dragged
Hilda to the post, stout, of peeled wood, which stood outside the hall. Ottar
then, with a scrap of binding fiber, crossed and rudely bound, before her body,
the wrists of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar; he then, reaching up,
fastened her wrists to the heavy iron ring over her head. Her breasts were
against the post; she could not place her heels on the ground. "How dare you
place me in this position, Ivar Forkbeard!" she demanded. "I am a free woman!"
"Bring the five-strap slave slash," said Ivar Forkbeard to Gunnhild. "Yes, my
Jarl," she said, smiling. She ran to fetch it. "I am the daughter of Thorgard of
Scagnar," said Hilda. "Release me immediately." The lash was placed by Gunnhild
in the hand of Ivar Forkbeard. Ottar threw the girl's hair forward, so that it
fell before her shoulders. "No!" cried Hilda. The Forkbeard touched her back
with the whip; his fist held the handle and, too, beneath his fist, folded back,
were the five straps. He tapped her twice. "No!" she cried. "Please, no!" We
fell back to give the Forkbeard room, and he shook loose the straps and drew
back his arm. The first stroke threw her against the post; I saw the
astonishrnent,~n her eyes, then the pain; the daughter of Thorgard seemed
stunned; then she howled in misery; it was only then that she realized what the
whip might do to a girl. "I will obey you!" she screamed. "I will obey you!"
Ivar Forkbeard, experienced in the disciplining of women, did not deliver the
second stroke for a full Ehn. In this time, she screamed, over and over, "I will
obey you!" Then he struck again. Her body, again, was struck against the post;
her hands twisted in the binding fiber; her entire body rubbed on 152 the post,
in agony, pressing against it; tears burst from he eyes; she was on her tiptoes,
pressing against the post; he~ thighs were on either side of the post; but the
post did nol -yield; she was fastened to it. Then he struck again. Sh~ writhed,
twisting and howling. 'sI ask only to obey you!" she cried. "I beg to obey you!"
When he next struck she could only close her eyes in pain. She could then
scarcely breathe. She gasped. No longer could she howl or scream. She tensed,
teeth gritted, her body itself a silent scream of agony. But the blow did not
then fall. Was the beating done~ Then she was struck again. The last five blows
were de livered with her hanging in the binding fiber, her body against the
post, her face to one side of it. She was then released from the post and fell
to her hands and knees. The beating had been quite light, only twenty strokes.
Yet I did not think it would be soon that the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar
would wish to find herself again at the post. The beating had been, though
light, quite adequate to its purpose, which was to teach her, a captive, the
whip. No female forgets it. She looked up at the Forkbeard in misery. "Bring her
clothing," said the Forkbeard. It was brought. "Garb yourself," said the
Forkbeard. Painfully, almost unable to stand, tears in her eyes, inch by inch,
the girl drew on her garments. She then stood there among us, bent over, tears
staining her cheeks. She wore the dress of green velvet trimmed with gold, it
torn from the collar, it ripped at the right side. She looked at him. "Remove
your clothing," he said. She stripped herself. "Gather the clothing," said the
Forkbeard. She dld so. "Go now to the kitchen of the hall," said he. "In th,e
fi.re there, burn your clothing, completely." "Yes, Ivar Forkbeard," she said.
"Gunnhild will accompany you," he said. "When you ~ 153 have burned your
garments, every bit of them, then beg Gunnhild to set you about your duties."
"What duties, my Jarl," asked Gunnhild. "Tonight we feast," said Ivar Forkbeard.
"The feast must be prepared." "She is to help prepare the feast?" asked
Gunnhild. "And ser
ve it," said the Forkbeard. "I see, then, the nature of her
duties," said Gunnhild, smiling. "Yes," said Ivar Forkbeard. He regarded Hilda.
"You will beg Gunnhild to set you about the duties of a bond-maid." "Yes," said
she, "Ivar Forkbeard." "Hurry now," laughed he. Weeping, clutching her clothing,
she ran to the hall. The men and bond-maids laughed muchly. I, too, roared with
laughter. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, had been taught to
obey. The shrieking of Pouting Lips, as she yielded to Gorm, supine, kicking in
the furs, rang through the low, smoking hall. I thrust Thyri from my lap, and
seized Olga by the wrist, as she hurried past, throwing her across my knees.
She, laughing, was fleeing Ottar who, drunkenly, was stumbling after her. I
pulled Olga's face to mine and our lips met, I forcing my kiss to her teeth. Her
naked body, collared, suddenly responded to mine, and she reached for me with
her hands. "MyJarl!" she whispered. But I thrust her up, holding her by the
arms, into the hands of Ottar, who, laughing, tbrew her lightly over his
shoulder and turned about. I saw her head and shoulders, and her body, to the
waist, over his shoulder, her small fists pounding meaninglessly on his back. He
carried her into the darkness and threw her to the furs. "MyJarl," whimpered
Thyri, crouching beside me, touching me. With a laugh, she crying out with
pleasure, I took again the young lady of Kassau, the bond-maid, Thyri, in my
arms. Pretty Ankles hurried past, carrying a great trencher of roast meat on her
small shoulder. "Mead!" called Ivar Forkbeard, from across from me. "Mead!" He
held out the great, curved horn, with its rim fillgreed gold. Pudding and
Gunnhild knelt on the bench, snuggli~ against him, one on either side. But they
did not run to fet~ his mead. That duty, this night, befell another. Hilda the
Haughty, ~daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, stripped as any bond-maid, from a
large bronze vess~ poured mead for the Forkbeard. The men laughed. She, though
free, poured mead as a bond-maid. The h~ roared with pleasure. Mighty insult had
thus been wroug] upon Thorgard of Scagnar, enemy of Ivar Forkbeard. H daughter,
stripped, poured mead in the hall of his enemie Too, they had taught her to heel
and obey. Rich was tl pleasure of Ivar Forkbeard. He reached out his hand, to