Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt

by Marauders of Gor [lit]

  iess explicitly acknowledged. The Forkbeard looked to Svein Blue Tooth. Svein

  fingered the tooth on its chain. "Yes," said he, "come tonight to my

  hall-Champion." There had then been again much cheering. Svein B1ue Tooth, high

  jarl of Torvaldsland, followed by his woman, and high officers and counselors,

  and other followers, then took his way from the dais. We had fed well in the

  hall of Svein Blue Tooth. Many were the roast tarsk and roast bosk that had

  roasted over the long fire, on the iron spits. Splendid was the quality of the

  ale at the tables of the Blue Tooth. Sweet and strong was the mead. The smoke

  from the fire found its way high into the rafters, and, eventually, out of the

  holes cut in the peaked roof. Some of these were eighteen inches square. Light

  was furnished from the cooking fire but, too, from torches set in rings on the

  wall, backed with metal plating; too, here and there, on chains from the beams,

  high above, there hung large tharlarion oil lamps, which could be raised and

  lowered from the sides. At places, too, there were bowls, with oil and wicks,

  with spikes on their bottoms, set in the dirt floor, some six inches from the

  floor, others as high as five feet; this mode of lamp, incidentally, is more

  common in the private chambers. It was not unusual, incidentally, tha the floor

  of the great hall, rich as it was, was of dirt, strewn with rushes. This is

  common in the halls of Torvaldsland When the Forkbeard, and I, and other

  followers, many oi them bearing riches, entered the hall , we had been given a

  room to one side, in which we might wash and dry ourselves before the feast. In

  this room, unusual in halls, was a window. I had put my finger against it, and

  pressed outward. I was not paned with glass, but with some sort of membrane but

  the membrane was almost as clear as glass. "What is this?" I had asked the

  Forkbeard. "It is the dried afterbirth membrane of a bosk fetus," he said. "It

  will last many months, even against rain." Looking out through the window I

  could see the palisade about the hall and its associated buildings. The palisade

  inclosed some two acres; within it were many shops and storage houses, even an

  ice house; in the center, of course, reared the great hall itself, that rude

  high-roofed palace of the north, the house of Svein Blue Tooth. Through the

  membrane, hardly distorted, I saw the palisade, the catwalk about it, the

  guards, and, over it, the moons of Gor. In the far distance, the moonlight

  reflected from its snowy heights I saw, too, the Torvaldsberg, in which the

  legendary Torvald was reputed to sleep, supposedly to waken again if needed once

  more in Torvaldsland. I smiled. I turned to Ivar Forkbeard. I saw that

  treasures, borne by his men, had been placed in this side room He grinned. The

  Forkbeard was in a good mood. The last night had been quite a pleasant one for

  him. He had handed off Pudding and Gunnhild to his men, for the night, and had

  ordered to his furs Honey Cake, the former Miss Stevens of Earth, and the wench,

  Leah, the Canadian girl, whom I had won at archery and given to him as a gift.

  Honey Cake, like many shy, introverted, timid girls, fearing her own sexuality

  and fearing that of men, sensing them in terror as her natural masters, was the

  mistress of secret, incredible depths of repressed sexual emotion and feeling;

  the Forkbeard, of course, a rude barbarian, was not in the least concerned with

  the walls which she had, carefully, over years, built to conceal her own needs

  and desires from herself; he simply shattered them; he had forced her, unable to

  resist, as only a bond-maid without choice, to look deeply and openly on her own

  naked needs and desires; then he had used her as a slave; she had yielded to him

  helplessly, wondrously, laughing, weeping, crying out with joy; the wench, Leah,

  whom I had won at archery, had tried to resist the Forkbeard; he had her beaten

  and thrown back to his furs; soon she, too, in her turn, was moaning with

  pleasure; helplessly; she was responding beautifully to him; by morning both

  girls, on and about him, fighting one another, jealous of one another, were

  begging for his touch; at dawn he had ordered one of his men, that he might get

  some sleep, to chain them prone head to foot, the right ankle of each chained to

  the projecting ring on the collar of the other; the Forkbeard did not rise until

  afternoon; he was then much refreshed; I had, in my turn, with several of the

  other of the Forkbeard's men, enjoyed Pudding and Gunnhild; both were superb;

  toward morning, too, I had felt Olga's small fingers at my ankle; she was, like

  several of the other bond-maids, chained by the right ankle, the chain some

  eight feet in length, to a stake driven into the earth near the center of the

  Forkbeard's tent; she had crawled to the extent of her chain, her right leg

  extended behind her, and had stretched her right hand toward me; I took the furs

  to her side, wrapped her within them with me, and had much pleasure with her; we

  fell asleep two Ahn afterwards, she still held in my arms, her head on my

  shoulder. When the Forkbeard himself rose, of course, the camp became quite

  active, and the slaves were put about many menial labors; the thrall, Tarsk, was

  unchained from Thyri, and set about the sawing of wood; Thyri herself, her

  kirtle thrown to her, was ordered to pound grain to make flour; she could not

  even look Tarsk in the face, I noted; she looked down, shyly; from her cries the

  night before I knew that she had, behind the tent, yielded to him; the other

  girls much teased her for yielding to a thrall; "I would have been beaten had I

  not yielded," she said in defense; then she looked down once more, and smiled;

  she did not seem discontent. I saw her, late in the afternoon, unbidden,

  secretly bringing him water at his work. "Thank you, bond-maid," said he. She

  put down her head. "You are pretty, bond-maid," he said. "Thank you, my Jarl,"

  she said. He looked after her, as she sped away. He grinned. He then, whistling,

  worked with gusto. He did not then seem to me unlike a free man. "If you are

  washed and readied," said a young thrall, collared, in a kirtle of white wool,

  "it is permissible to present yourselves before the high seat of the house,

  before my master, Svein Blue Tooth, Jarl of Torvaldsland." "We are honored," had

  said the Forkbeard. He designated four of his men to guard the treasures. We

  looked at one another. "I feel," I said, "as though I were walking into the jaws

  of a larl." "Do not fear," said Ivar. "I, Forkbeard, am at your side." "Were you

  not at my side," I said, "I doubt that I should feel as I do." "I see," said the

  Forkbeard. "Could we not," I suggested, "simply leap naked into a pit of

  venomous osts, or, perhaps, race madly across the plains of the Wagon Peoples

  during a lightning storm, our swords raised over our heads?" "The trick," said

  the Forkbeard, "is not simply to walk into the jaws of a larl. Any fool can do

  that." "I am well aware of that," I said. "The trick," said the Forkbeard,

  winking, but not thereby much reassuring me, "is to walk back out again!" "You

  have some intention, then," I asked, "of emerging from this escapade alive?"

  "That is a portion of my plan," acknowledg
ed the Forkbeard. "And, failing that,

  we will die nobly, against heavy odds. Thus, my plan is foolproof." "You have

  reasoned it out well," I admitted. "Lead on." The Forkbeard lifted his head

  boldly and, smiling, emerged from the side room, at the entrance to which he

  stopped and raised his hands, saluting the tables. He was greeted with warmth

  from the many warriors there. He had won six talmits. "The Forkbeard greets

  you!" shouted Ivar. I blinked. The hall was light. I had not understood it to be

  so large. At the tables, lifting ale and knives to the Forkbeard were more than

  a thousand men. Then he took his way to the bench opposite the high seat,

  stopping here and there to exchange pleasantries with the men of Svein Blue

  Tooth. I, and his men, followed him. The Blue Tooth, I noted, did not look too

  pleased at the Forkbeard's popularity with his men. Near him, beside the high

  seat, sat his woman, Bera, her hair worn high on her head, in a kirtle of yellow

  wool with scarlet cape of the fur of the red sea sleen, and, about her neck,

  necklaces of gold. We had fed well in the hall of Svein Blue Tooth. During the

  meal, for Svein was a rich man, there had been acrobats, and jugglers and

  minstrels. There had been much laughter when one of the acrobats had fallen into

  the long fire, to leap scrambling from it, rolling in the dirt. Two other men,

  to settle a grievance, had had a tug of war, a bosk hide stretched between them,

  across the long fire. When one had been pulled into the fire the other had

  thrown the hide over him and stomped upon him. Before the fellow in the fire

  could free himself he had been much burned. This elicited much laughter from the

  tables. The juggIers had a difficult tiIne, too, for their eyes on the cups and

  plates they were juggling, they were not infrequently tripped, to the hilarity

  of the crowd. More than one minstrel, too, was driven from the hall, the target

  of barrages of bones and plates. The Forkbeard was, at one point, so furious at

  the ineptness of the musicians, that he informed me of his own intention to

  regale the tables with song. He was extremely proud of his singing voice. I

  prevailed upon him to desist. "You are a guest," I told him, "it would not be

  seemly for you, by your talents, to shame the entertainers, and thereby perhaps

  reflect upon the honor of your host, who doubtless has provided the best he

  can." "True," admitted the Forkbeard. I breathed more easily. Had Ivar Forkbeard

  broken into song I would have given little for our chances. Male thralls turned

  the spits over the long fire; female thralls, bond-maids, served the tables. The

  girls, though collared in the manner of Torvaldsland, and serving men, were

  fully clothed. Their kirtles of white wool, smudged and stained with grease,

  fell to their ankles; they hurried about; they were barefoot; their arms, too,

  were bare; their hair was tied with strings behind their heads, to keep it free

  from sparks; their faces were, on the whole, dirty, smudged with dirt and

  grease; they were worked hard; Bera, I noted, kept much of an eye upon them; one

  girl, seized by a warrior, her waist held, his other hand sliding upward from

  her ankle beneath the single garment permitted her, the long, stained woolen

  kirtle, making her cry out with pleasure, dared to thrust her lips eagerly,

  furtively, to his; but she was seen by Bera; orders were given; by male thralls

  she was bound and, weeping, thrust to the kitchen, there to be stripped and

  beaten; I presumed that if Bera were not present the feast might have taken a

  different turn; her frigid, cold presence was, doubtless, not much welcomed by

  the men. But she was the woman of Svein Blue Tooth. I supposed, in time,

  normally, she would retire, doubtless taking Svein Blue Tooth with her. It would

  be then that the men might thrust back the tables and hand the bond-maids about.

  No Jarl I knew can hold men in his hall unless there are ample women for them. I

  felt sorry for Svein Blue Tooth. This night, however, it seemed Bera had no

  intention of retiring early. I suspected this might have accounted somewhat for

  the ugliness of the men with the entertainers, not that the men of Torvaldsland,

  under any circumstances, constitute an easily pleased audience. Generally only

  Kaissa and the songs of skalds can hold their attention for long hours, that and

  stories told at the tables. After the entertainers had been driven from the hall

  and much food had been eaten, Svein Blue Tooth, who had showed much patience,

  said to Ivar Forkbeard, "It is my understanding that you believe yourself to

  have that wherewith your deed's wergild might be met." "Perhaps," admitted the

  Forkbeard. Svein Blue Tooth's eyes gleamed. He fingered the tooth of the Hunjer

  whale, on its golden chain, slung about his neck. "The wergild was high," said

  the Blue Tooth. The Forkbeard stood up. "Bring gold and sapphires," said he,

  "and bring scales." To the astonishment of all those in the hall, from the side

  room, boxes and sacks of gold were brought forth by the Forkbeard's men, and,

  too, a large, heavy sack of leather, filled with tiny objects. Men left the back

  tables; men crowded about; even the thralls and the bond-maids, astonished,

  disbelieving, crowded near. "Room! Make room here!" called the Forkbeard. For

  more than two Ahn gold was weighed, on two pairs of scales, one furnished by the

  Forkbeard, the other by the house of Svein Blue Tooth. To my relief the scales,

  alrnost perfectly, agreed. The gold accumulated. The eyes of Svein Blue Tooth

  and Bera, narrow, shining, were filled with pleasure. "There is forty weight of

  gold here,' said Svein Blue Tooth's man, almost as though he could not believe

  it, "four hundred stone of gold." There was a gasp from the throng. The

  Forkbeard then went to the heavy leather sack and ripping the leather away at

  its throat, poured onto the dirt, lustrous, scintillating, a shower of jewels,

  mostly a deep blue, but some were purple, and other white and yellow, the carved

  sapphires of Schendi, each in the shape of a tiny panther. "Aiii!" cried the

  throng. Svein Blue Tooth leaned forward, his fists clenched. Bera, her eyes

  blazing could not speak. The Forkbeard shook his sack further. More jewels fell

  forth, some among them more unusual varieties of sapphire, pale pink, orange,

  violet, brown and even green. "Ah," cried the throng. "How beautiful!" cried a

  bondmaid, who did not, herself, own even her collar of iron. "Weigh them," said

  the Forkbeard. I had not, myself, realized there were so many varieties of

  sapphires. Until this time I had been familiar only with the bluish stones. I

  had little doubt, however, that the stones were genuine. Chenbar, the Sea Sleen,

  would have insisted on the fee for his rescue being paid in genuine stones, as a

  matter of pride. Too, the Forkbeard, in dealing with his Jarl, Svein Blue Tooth,

  would not use false stones. He would be above that. It is one thing to cheat one

  not of Torvaldsland, quite another to attempt to defraud one of one's own

  country, particularly one's Jarl. I had no doubt that the spilled glory heaped

  gleaming in the dirt of the hall of Svein Blue Tooth was what it seemed, true

  stones, and an incredible treasure. The jewels, like the gold, were patient
ly

  weighed. There were many exclamations from the warriors present, and others in

  the throng. The weight of the stones was more than that of a full-grown man.

  Ivar Forkbeard stood behind these riches, and grinned, and spread his hands. "I

  did not think there were such riches in all of Torvaldsland," whispered Bera.

  Svein Blue Tooth was much impressed. He could scarcely speak. With such riches

  there would be no Jarl in Torvaldsland who could even remotely compare to him.

  His power would be the equal of that of a Ubar of the south. But the men of

  Torvaldsland are not easily pleased. The Blue Tooth leaned back. "There was,

  Forkbeard," said he, smiling, "a third condition to the wergild." "Oh, my Jarl?"

  asked Ivar. "It seems I must keep this treasure," said he, "and you remain

  outlaw. It may, however, count as the first two installments of a completed

  transaction. I shall revoke your outlawry when, and only when, too, you deliver

  to me the daughter of my enemy, Thorgard of Scagnar." The Blue Tooth's men, not

  pleased, murmured angrily. "The Forkbeard, surely, has more than paid wergild,"

  cried one. "What man has been set such a price and has paid it?" cried another.

  "Silence!" cried Svein Blue Tooth, standing behind the table. He scowled at his

  men. "No one, not an army or a fleet," cried another, "could take the daughter

  of so powerful a Jarl as Thorgard of Scagnar!" "You seem to ask the impossible,

  my Jarl," observed Ivar Forkbeard. "I do ask the impossible," said Svein Blue

  Tooth. "Of you, my friend, Ivar Forkbeard, I choose to ask the irnpossible." The

  Forkbeard's men muttered angrily. Weapons were grasped. Even the men of Svein

  Blue Tooth, perhaps a thousand in the hall, were angry. Yet the Blue Tooth,

  boldly, their Jarl, matched his will to theirs. Which one of them would dare to

  challenge the will of their Jarl? I admired the Blue Tooth in his way. He was

  courageous. In the final analysis, I had little doubt that his men would abide

  by his decision. The Blue Tooth sat down again in the high seat. "Yes, friend

  Forkbeard," said he, "of you, as is my right, I ask what cannot be done, the

  impossible." The Forkbeard turned and, facing the entrance of the hall, called

  out, "Bring forth the female." There was no sound in the great hall, save the