by John Norman
Indeed, in moments, most of the beasts of the herd, in their doltish fashion, had returned to their pursuits, as though nothing had happened, scratching for grubs and worms, digging here and there to uncover edible roots. From the mouth of one dangled a small snake.
The killer humans, on the far side of the herd, had now congregated together, and were regarding Lord Grendel, who roared once more.
Cabot then, bow strung, an arrow to the string, a quiver at his hip, laden with the birds of death, emerged from the forest. So, too, did Statius.
Whereas the killer humans might, or might not, have surprised and attacked a single, preferably unarmed Kur, it was a different matter altogether to attack two who were aware, ready, and aroused. Also, although they did not themselves possess the bow, they understood it. They would not go against a bow with sticks, and certainly not across a distance, in full daylight.
Accordingly, the killer humans brought their neck-roped females to their feet, placed themselves between the females and the herd, and Lord Grendel, Cabot, and Statius, and, with a few cries and strokes of their sticks, herded them away, withdrawing behind them, with an occasional vigilant glance cast backward.
Lord Grendel stepped backward, and then looked about. He was still visibly agitated. His body shook. His nostrils flared, and fangs protruded, glistening with saliva.
Cabot was unwilling even to speak to him in his present state.
Lord Grendel crouched down, and fastened his paws in the grass. His mighty chest heaved, his head was down.
Then he lifted his head. “Where is she?” he asked.
"Gone,” said Cabot, looking about.
Lord Grendel uttered a long, strange noise, less of disappointment, or anger, as of the ventilation of some wracking agitation.
The small figure which had fled away, bell jangling, was blonde and shapely. Too, interestingly, its small wrists were pinioned behind her back.
"They would have killed her,” said Lord Grendel. “They would have cut her with stones, thrust sticks into her, broke her with rocks and clubs, chewed the skin from her bones."
"Understandably,” said Cabot. “Some, at least, would remember her from the pens."
The fugitive was, of course, the Lady Bina.
"It is surprising to find her here,” said Cabot. “I would have thought rather that she would have been silked, bejeweled, and veiled, and regally ensconced at the side of Agamemnon."
"How has she lived, thusly?” asked Lord Grendel, rising up, now again himself.
"Not well, I would suppose,” said Cabot.
"Her hands were held behind her, were they not?” asked Lord Grendel.
"Fastened there,” said Cabot, “in steel, in slave bracelets."
"I understand now the scratches in the cave, the print of the foot,” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “The print was doubtless hers, she having taken refuge in the tunnel, and the scratches were doubtless the results of her attempts to free herself of the light but effective impediments which constrained her."
"Stone will not conquer metal,” said Lord Grendel.
"And slave bracelets are not designed to be slipped by their occupant,” said Cabot. “They are manufactured to guarantee a female's utter helplessness."
"Doubtless such things are known to any slave,” said Lord Grendel.
"Sooner or later, surely,” said Cabot.
"They had to be put on her,” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “but for what reason, and by whom?"
"How insulting,” said Lord Grendel, “that she, a free woman, should have been put in slave bracelets."
"Insulting, perhaps,” said Cabot. “But one notes that they will hold a free woman with the same perfection as a slave."
"It seems clear,” said Lord Grendel, “that she was in hiding, for some reason, and perhaps for some time, and was then discovered and flushed out of concealment by the killer humans."
"One can understand how she would seem an excellent catch for them, in their hunting of women. Indeed, they may have noted her, and been searching for her, for some time."
"She sought refuge amongst the cattle humans,” said Lord Grendel. “That must have taken great courage, for she has feared them, terribly, since the pens."
"Her act, I suspect,” said Cabot, “was one less of courage than of terror, of sudden and thoughtless desperation, an irrational flight at any cost to escape capture by the killer humans."
"It is true,” said Lord Grendel, “that we had attempted to assure her of the harmlessness of cattle humans."
"In that,” said Cabot, “we were mistaken. It might have been true once, but it seems untrue now. Some cattle humans in any event now arm themselves, however primitively, and attack others, and encroach on the feeding territories of others, and so on. Indeed, they have now exceeded, it seems, their former bovine placidity, now that they are not cared for, and fed. Now, it seems, they have learned cruelty, predation, and war."
"They are becoming more human,” said Lord Grendel.
"Or more Kur,” said Cabot.
Grendel looked about.
"The Lady Bina has again eluded us,” said Cabot. “She has escaped."
"Nonsense,” said Lord Grendel. “The trail is fresh. A Kur child could follow it."
There was, at that moment, a cry of Kur elation, and greeting, and Cabot and Lord Grendel turned about to see Statius approaching, dragging behind him, by means of a stout rope on her neck, stumbling, filthy, terrified, only the remnant of a stained tunic left to her, her wrists pinioned behind her in slave bracelets, the Lady Bina.
"The Lady Bina returns,” said Cabot.
Statius hurled the Lady Bina triumphantly, contemptuously, to the feet of Lord Grendel. “Here,” cried Statius, “is the traitress, the Lady Bina!"
The Lady Bina, helpless at the feet of Lord Grendel, squirmed in misery, and terror. The shred of tunic remaining to her was filthy. Her hair was tangled and unkempt, and caked with dried blood. Her body was muchly soiled and her knees were red, too, with dried blood. With one foot Statius put her to her belly and then pulled her wrists up, behind her, so that their confinement might be obvious.
"Slave bracelets,” said Cabot.
Statius then thrust her wrists down, angrily, and put his clawed foot on her back, pressing her against the earth.
She wept.
"Here she is, the traitress,” said Statius, “now ours!"
"She is in the presence of Lord Grendel,” said Cabot. “Kneel her, fittingly."
Angrily Statius drew her by the hair to a high kneeling position before Lord Grendel, and then thrust her head to the ground, before him.
"Kiss the feet of your lord,” said Statius, “before justice is done to you."
Terrified, the Lady Bina began to desperately kiss and lick the feet of Lord Grendel.
"Shall we kill her now?” asked Statius.
"Let me see her,” said Lord Grendel.
Statius seized her by the hair and pulled her up, kneeling, so that Lord Grendel could see her face.
"Bend her backward,” said Cabot.
This was done and the body of the Lady Bina was then placed in the position of the slave bow.
Many times Cabot had so positioned women. In this position they are helpless and the nature of their figure is well exhibited.
This position, while one of great indignity for a free woman, is one with which a slave is likely to be familiar.
"She is nicely formed,” said Cabot. “Perhaps if she were cleaned up, if she were soaked and scrubbed, if she were thoroughly washed, and combed and brushed, and silked, she might be made a slave."
"No!” said Statius. “She is a traitress. She must be put to the slowest and most terrible of all deaths. She must be brought to the bar of justice. Recall our fallen friends and comrades! Recall our betrayal, the slaughter at the arsenal!"
"Such things will be well recalled,” said Lord Grendel. “Kneel her up."
Statius pulled the Lady Bina up, to an upright kneeling position, before Lord Grendel.
His rope was still on her neck.
The lips of the Lady Bina quivered. She trembled. She was too frightened to speak.
"Should she not kneel with her knees spread,” asked Cabot, “that she might thusly plead to be spared, that her life might thereafter be devoted to the service and pleasure of men?"
"No!” said Statius.
"She is a free woman,” said Lord Grendel.
"Many free women, in dire straits,” said Cabot, “so plead, and in a thousand other ways, as well, to escape the edge of the sword. Have I not seen them, in burning cities, strip themselves, and kneel, and grovel, and belly and squirm, and kiss and lick fervently at the feet and legs of conquerors, begging to be spared, begging to live, begging mercy, begging desperately and with their whole heart to be granted the collar of a slave?"
"That is what they want anyway,” said Lord Grendel. “That is what they all want."
"And so?” said Cabot.
"The Lady Bina is different,” said Lord Grendel. “She is a true free woman."
"There are no true free women,” said Cabot. “There are only women who have not yet met their master, only women not yet in their collar."
"The Lady Bina,” said Statius, “is not a slave. She is a free woman and as a free woman must accept the penalties incurred by her crimes, crimes both obvious and grievous. Such crimes cannot be ignored, or eradicated, by something as simple as the snapping shut of a close-fitting metal circlet."
"True,” said Lord Grendel.
It seemed the Lady Bina would collapse, but Statius, a hand in her hair, held her upright.
"Her face,” said Cabot, “is filthy, and her hair. There is dried blood about her mouth."
"Too, on her legs, and knees,” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"That is muchly how she lived,” said Grendel, “at least in the tunnel. After emergences she knelt in the blood, bent over, her hands helpless behind her, and lapped at the blood, competing for it with scavengers."
"A cheek is marred,” said Cabot, looking closely at the kneeling girl.
"From the bite of a scavenger, competing with her for the blood,” said Lord Grendel. “It is tiny. It is not serious. It will heal. If it had been from the bite of a child it would have gone through to the bone, or she might have lost an ear."
He then regarded the Lady Bina, sorrowfully. “You had the wisdom to avoid the children, did you not?” he asked.
She nodded, head down, numbly.
Statius jerked at the rope on her neck. She made a tiny sound, of misery. “Let us bind her and cover her with blood, and put her in the tunnel for the scavengers,” he said.
"But,” said Lord Grendel, “that would be too quick, would it not?"
"Yes,” said Statius, thoughtfully. “You are right. That would be too quick."
"We will take her back to the camp, for judgment,” said Lord Grendel. “Then we may be judged together."
"No!” cried Statius.
"It can be no other way,” said Lord Grendel.
"I will stand by you to the death,” said Statius.
"I, too,” said Cabot.
"But I do not think the others will,” said Statius.
Lord Grendel then turned away from the captive, in grief, and Statius, with one clawed foot, impatiently, angrily, spurned her to her belly, where she had knelt.
"Lord Grendel,” she whispered. It was the first time she had spoken. Lord Grendel turned to face her. She lay on her belly before him, miserable and filthy, in the tattered and stained shred of her tiny garment, weak, doubtless starving, her small hands fastened behind her in the slave bracelets, Statius’ rope on her neck. She lifted her head, weakly, just a little. “I am innocent,” she whispered.
Chapter, the Fifty-Sixth:
WHAT OCCURRED WITHIN THE VALE OF DESTRUCTION
"It is dark,” said Cabot. “Perhaps we are unexpected."
"Statius,” said Lord Grendel. “Send Flavion to us."
"He is not here,” said Statius.
"Then,” said Lord Grendel to his human ally, Tarl Cabot, “we are expected."
"It will be several hours until dawn,” said Cabot.
"There may be an early dawn, even an early noon,” said Lord Grendel, looking about.
In the darkness, about them, were tense figures, several, silent, not much moving.
"Flavion believes we are conjoined to march in force on the palace,” said Cabot.
"I wonder if he thinks we are so stupid as to actually intend that,” said Statius.
"I do not doubt that Agamemnon is a genius,” said Lord Grendel. “But a common fault amongst those of genius is to assume that all others are fools."
"The others were informed of our plans, and the risks?” said Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel, “and offered the opportunity to withdraw."
"How many were lost?” asked Cabot.
"None,” said Statius. “Neither Kur, nor, surprisingly, human."
Cabot could not see much about him, for the darkness. His Kur brethren were better adapted to absorb and profit from the minimal light, but even for them, he gathered, the darkness was limiting and opprobrious.
As Cabot and Lord Grendel, and others of their group, had arrived earlier, in the arranged dusk, he had assessed the terrain, rather as might have been expected of one of his caste. They were in a broad, shallow valley, rather like a gentle, expanded, wide bowl of grass. It was rather oval, something less than a half pasang in length, and little more than a quarter of a pasang in width. At one end of the valley was a simple, memorial stele, recounting what had once occurred there, something over a hundred years earlier, a victory in which the forces of a Tenth Face of the Nameless One had succumbed, and those of an Eleventh Face of the Nameless One had emerged victorious.
"There was a massacre here, was there not?” inquired Cabot.
"It was long ago,” said Lord Grendel.
"It seems a good place for a massacre,” said Cabot.
"So, it does,” said Lord Grendel, “and I do not doubt but what Flavion selected it with that thought in mind."
"It would be hard to climb the slopes, to escape,” said Cabot.
"We will be encircled,” said Lord Grendel. “One would climb into the very muzzles of weaponry."
"The depression, too,” said Cabot, “makes a splendid crossfire possible, from which oppositely situated cohorts would be in little danger."
"I trust, too,” said Lord Grendel, “you are aware of certain resonances here which would be savored by Lord Agamemnon."
"I was informed of the message of the stele,” said Cabot, “that it was here, in this very place, though long ago, that an Eleventh Face of the Nameless One became Theocrat of the World."
"Flavion and Agamemnon, it seems,” said Lord Grendel, “could not resist having their moment of theatricality."
"Is that you, Archon?” asked Cabot.
"Yes,” said Archon.
"Are you all right?” asked Cabot.
"I feel like a tethered verr,” said he, “staked out by hunters, hoping to lure in a larl."
"The analogy is apt,” said Statius, “save that there may be no hunters."
"How many are here?” asked Cabot. Reports had come to Lord Grendel from time to time, consonant with the arrivals of diverse groups.
"Most, if not all,” said Lord Grendel.
"Four then, or five, hundred,” said Cabot.
"Three hundred and fifty, perhaps four hundred,” said Lord Grendel.
"The trenches have been dug,” said Statius.
This had been done easily enough, and presumably unnoted by an enemy, for it would approach later, utilizing the cover of darkness.
"They will provide little protection,” said Archon, “if the minions of Agamemnon stand over them, or enter them, filling them with fire."
"How long until dawn
?” asked Cabot.
"Not long,” said Lord Grendel, “as we are now well gathered."
"No,” said Cabot. “Surely Ahn."
"My dear Cabot,” said Lord Grendel, “you are not now on Gor, but within a Steel World. Dusks, dawns, nights, days, are muchly subject to discretion."
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"And weathers, and such,” said Lord Grendel.
"I see,” said Cabot.
"I wonder if the daylight will come brightly, instantly,” said Statius. “Our human allies would then be briefly blinded, as they are so tardy in their optical adjustments."
"Given the graduality of dawns and dusks on the worlds in which the human evolved,” said Lord Grendel, “there was little need for rapid optical adjustments."
If I might add a note here, it should be understood that the human being is primarily a diurnal form of life. More importantly, the Kur might emerge suddenly from the darkness of caves into bright sunlight, to hunt, and, say, the sleen might similarly emerge suddenly from darkness, though commonly from its burrow. It seems reasonably clear then that the Nameless One, in its wisdom, or its blind, adventitious lotteries, casting its cards as it pleased, favored swift optical adjustments in the Kur, and the sleen, and doubtless in several other forms of life, as well. The sleen, incidentally, is predominantly a nocturnal animal. The Kur, we note, can function efficiently, and comfortably, in both light and darkness, provided the darkness is not absolute. In this respect the Kur is clearly superior to the human, at least. As the human is predominantly a diurnal animal, its dark vision is, we suppose, relatively unimportant. To be sure, it can make adjustments to varying light conditions, but, as noted, these adjustments are relatively slow, or slow, at least, compared to those of the Kur and sleen.
"If I were Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel, “I would in my arrangements lighten the world somewhat but, on the whole, keep it rather dark. In this way his folk may function effectively, directing their fire efficiently, and our humans will be essentially helpless, effectively neutralized."
"Aii!” cried Cabot, suddenly, in pain, and shouts of dismay rang through the field, from both Kur and human, for the world was suddenly, instantly, flooded with an intense light.
"Trenches!” cried Lord Grendel, and others.