by John Norman
"How many of these came with you?" asked Aemilianus.
"Fifteen," said Calliodorus.
"These ships would not be under the command of one called Jason, of Victoria?" smiled Aemilianus.
"I certainly could not be expected to know anything of that sort," said Calliodorus.
"Praise the Vosk League!" said a man.
"Glory to the Vosk League!" whispered another man.
"It must be clearly understood by all," said Calliodorus, standing up, smiling, putting his half of the topaz into his pouch, "that the Vosk League, a neutral force on the river, one devoted merely to the task of maintaining law and order on the river, is certainly in no way involved in this operation."
"Glory to the Vosk League," said more than one man.
I moved away from the crowd about Aemilianus and walked along the outer edge of the piers. I did count twenty-five ships at the piers, and out in the harbor. Ten of these flew the blue flag I had taken for that of Cos, or that serving for Cos on the river. From the stem lines of fifteen of the ships, as far as I could tell, for some were out in the harbor, and blocked by others, there flew no colors at all. Indeed, interestingly, as I walked along the piers I saw that canvases had been thrown over places on certain of the ships, at the stern, and on the side of the bows, where one might be accustomed to look for a name.
On the way back, along the pier, I stopped by one of the unidentified ships, one wharfed adjacent to the Tais, the flagship. Indeed, it had been the second ship into the harbor, and the one that had rammed the Cosian ship amidships. "You wonder where these ships are from?" asked a fellow near me, a fellow from Ar's Station, on the pier.
"Yes," I said. "I am curious."
"This ship here," he said, "is the Tina, out of Victoria. I have seen it often enough on patrols."
"That is interesting," I said. Victoria, of course, was the headquarters of the Vosk League.
"You must understand, of course," said the fellow, "that I do not know that." "I understand," I said.
A tall, dark-haired fellow was on the ship, near the bow. He carried himself as one of natural authority, but he wore no uniform, no insignia. His men I gathered, knew well enough who he was, and others need not know. He had noted us standing on the pier, near the bow. It was there that one of the cloaks of canvas had been placed, perhaps to conceal a name. One was similarly placed on the other side of the bow.
"Tal," said he to us.
"Tal," said I to him. "If I were to remove this canvas would I see the name Tina?"
The fellow on board looked sharply at the man with me. Apparently he knew him from somewhere. Certainly the fellow with me had seemed to have no difficulty in identifying the moored vessel. "Vitruvius?" he asked.
"He can be trusted," said the man with me. This trust, I gathered, I had earned on the wall, at the gate, on the walkway. Too, I think there was little truly secret about this ship, or the others."
"Do as you wish," said the fellow on board.
I lifted up the canvas a bit, and then let it drop back, in place. I had read there, in archaic script, the name "Tina'.
"Your ship, then," I said to the fellow on board, "is indeed the Tina." "There are doubtless many ships with that name," said the fellow, smiling. "And what is the port of registry of your ship?" I asked.
"It is registered west of here," he grinned.
"Victoria?" I asked.
"Or Fina, or somewhere," he said.
"Surely these ships with you, those surprisingly flying no colors, are not of the Vosk League."
"We are an innocent trading fleet," he said.
"One Cosian ship has been destroyed in the harbor," I said, "and another has been disabled."
"Yes," he said. "It seems two regrettable accidents occurred in the harbor." "You are embarking women and children," I said.
"Passengers," he said.
"Some may think these are ships of the Vosk League," I said.
"What do you think, Vitruvius?" asked the fellow, leaning on the rail. "It seems to me unlikely that these could be ships of the Vosk League," said the fellow beside me, "for the Vosk League, as is well known, is neutral. Does it not seem unlikely to you, as well?"
"Yes," said the man on the ship, "It seems quite unlikely to me, as well." "What is your name? I asked the fellow on the ship.
"What is yours?" he asked.
"Tarl," I said.
"That is a common name," he said.
"Yes," I said, "especially in the north."
"My name, too, is a common one," he said, "especially west, on the river." "What is it?" I asked.
"Jason," said he.
"Of what town?" I asked.
"The same which serves as the home port of my ship," he said.
"West of here?" I said.
"Yes," he said.
"Victoria?" I asked.
"Or Fina, or somewhere," he said.
"I wish you well," I said.
"I wish you well," he said. Women and children, and now men, were being taken aboard this vessel as well. Turning about, looking back to my left, toward the flagship, I saw Aemilianus being carried aboard. Some tarnsmen flew overhead, but none fired downward.
I watched the piers being emptied, women and children, and men, of Ar's Station, embarking.
I then saw, a rope on her neck, her hands thonged behind her back, still veiled, still clad in the provocative rages which had been those of the former Lady Publia, Lady Claudia. She had been caught among the crowds of women and children on the pier, perhaps noted by the wounded Marsias, or one of the others who had been with us in the cell, or perhaps by others still, alerted by one or the other of them, as to her probable disguise. The Cosians had not come to the piers. She had not received her opportunity to surrender herself to them, begging from them the desperate boon and privilege of reduction to absolute slavery. Among others boarding the flagship, too, in her improvised hood, naked, her hands, too, thonged behind her back, as I had fastened them earlier, being pulled on her leash by one free woman, being herded from behind, poked and jabbed, and struck, with a stick by another, stumbling, ascending the narrow plank to the flagship, was a slave, one who had once been Lady Publia of Ar's Station.
I saw her lose her footing once on the plank and fall, belly downward on it, her legs on either side of it. She must have been utterly terrified, in the darkness of the hood, helpless, unable even to cry out. The first woman tugged at the leash. The other beat her with the stick. She struggled to her feet, and then, obedient to the leash, and trying to hurry before the cruel incitements of the stick, she ascended the plank. Female slaves are seldom left in any doubt on Gor that they are slaves, and particularly when they are in the keeping of free women. I saw two of the oarsmen lift her from the height of the plank, down, between the thwarts, and then place her kneeling, behind them, amidships, on the deck. Other slaves already knelt there. Too, in that place, kneeling, too, a neck rope dangling before her, but in no one's keeping, knelt Lady Claudia. The two free women who had had the former lady Publia in their care were courteously directed forward, where, before and about the stern castle and even on the small bow deck, were gathered several woman and children. These, already, were being fed ships' rations. Four or five ships, crowded with passengers, had come and gone more than once at the piers. These were ferrying passengers to the ships lying at anchor in the harbor. Then they themselves retained their last loads of passengers and, too, drawn away from the piers, out in the harbor, rode at anchor. Many other passengers had boarded the ship which had remained wharfed, such as the Tina and Tais. The various ships were now crowded with the men, women and children of Ar's Station. I doubted that any one of them now held less than a hundred passengers.
It must be remembered, too, that these were river galleys and, on the whole, smaller than the galleys of Thassa. Too, the river galley, for those whom it might interest, is normally shorted masted than a Thassa galley, seldom has more than one mast, and seldom carried the varieties of sail
s, changed on the yard according to wind conditions, that are carried by a Thassa galley. River galleys, also, as would be expected, seldom carry more than twenty oars to a side, and are almost always single-banked.
Fifteen ships, mostly of Port Cos, were now at the piers, which, now, except for armed men, were mostly empty. I heard a battle horn sound, from the stern castle of the Tais. It was, I gathered, the recall. In orderly fashion, unchallenged, the numerous soldiers, guardsmen, armed oarsmen and such who had lined the inner side of the piers, facing the inner harbor, withdrew to the fifteen waiting ships. Many clambered over the sides. Others made use of various planks and gangplanks.
On some of the ships now there was scarcely room for the oarsmen to ply their levers. Water lapped high on the hulls; the rams were now at least a yard under the water; even the lower tips of their shearing blades were submerged. Mariners of some ships freed the mooring lines of others, and then their own, and then boarded, some of them using the lines themselves to regain the decks. Several of the ships then departed from the piers, pushing off with the three traditional poles. Among these was the ship called the Tina.
I looked out into the harbor. I saw some of the ships there drawing up their anchors, generally two, one at the bow, one at the stern, and putting about, those that had faced the piers. The huge, painted eyes of these ships were then turning north, toward the mighty Vosk. The eyes of the other ships out in the harbor, those which had had the task of ferrying out passengers, already faced north. Such eyes are common on Gorean ships. How else, some mariners inquire, could she see her way? To the Gorean mariner, as to many who have followed the ways of the sea, learning her, fearing her, loving her, the ship is more than an engineered structure of iron and wood. It is more than tackle and blocks, beams and planks, canvas and calking. There is an indefinability and preciousness about her, a mystique which informs her, an exceeding of what is seen, a nature and wondrous mystery, like that of a companion and lover, a creature and friend. Though I have seldom heard them speak explicitly of this, particularly when landsmen are present, many Gorean mariners seem to believe that the ship is in some way alive. This is supposed to occur when the eyes have been painted. It is then, some say, that she comes alive, when she can see. I suppose this may be regarded as superstition; on the other hand, it may also be regarded as love.
The ships in the outer harbor which had been facing north now, too, drew up their anchors.
I looked back toward the landing and the citadel in the distance, across the inner harbor. I could see the remains of walkway from where I was. The citadel was burning.
I looked back to the harbor.
The first of the ships was now moving toward the river. others were following her, in line.
Once again I looked back toward the citadel.
Smoke drifted out to the piers, too, from the city itself. Those fires, I supposed, might burn for two or three days yet.
I looked at the walkway. It had been a good fight, the fight that had been fought here. I did not think that those of either Cos or Ar's Station had cause to regret what had been done there. Glory is its own victory.
The last ships at the piers, one by one, began to depart their wharfage. I could see the water fall from the lifted oar blades into the harbor. Only the Tais, then, remained at the wharf. "Captain?" said a voice. It was that of the young crossbowman. His friend was with him.
They cast off the mooring lines and then followed me aboard. After our boarding the plank was drawn back, over the rail. Three mariners, managing the long poles, thrust the Tais from the pier.
"Out oars!" I heard the oar master call.
21 The River
"Let the first of the two females be fetched," said Aemilianus. It was now the middle of the morning, following yesterday's late-afternoon action at the piers.
The Tais moved with the current west on the Vosk. She led the main body of the flotilla westward. Ahead of us, in oblique formation, barely discernible, were four smaller galleys. These formed, as it were, an advance guard. Similarly, behind the main body of the flotilla, bringing up the rear, back a pasang or so, flying no colors, their markings concealed, were two galleys. One of these was the ship to whose captain I had spoken earlier, the Tina.
"Yes, Commander," said a man.
Aemilianus sat on the deck, rather before the steps leading up to the helm deck and, above that, to the height of the stern castle, leading against a backrest of canvas and rope. Calliodorus of Port Cos, his friend, stood near him. beside him, too, stood his aide, Surilius. Marsias, too, and the fellows whom I had encountered in the cell earlier, and who had fought with us on the walkway, were there, too. The grizzled fellow, too, had asked to be present. These were wounded. Marsias and one other fellow were lying on pallets. The others of the wounded sat on the deck. The young man, Marcus, was there, too. It was he who had made it through to Port Cos and returned with the ships which had made possible the evacuation from the piers. Now, in spite of his youth, he stood high in these councils, those of the survivors of Ar's Station. Many others were there, too, several of whom had fought with me on the wall and elsewhere. Among them were the two young fellows who had served me so well on the wall, as my messengers, and had served well later, too, on the landing. Those who stood with us here, I gathered, stood high among the survivors of Ar's Station.
I looked about myself.
It was remarkable to see the difference in the fellows from Ar's Station, now that they had had some food and a decent night's sleep, though only stretched out on the crowded deck of a galley. It had been perhaps the first night's sleep many of them had had in weeks, not disrupted by watches or alarms.
The "first of the two females" had not yet been fetched. They were arranging a special chaining for her. This would be the one in the improvised hood. I had had her hood pushed up yesterday evening and early this morning, though at neither time in such a way as to uncover her eyes, and, after having had her warned to silence, had had her gag removed, and had had her fed and watered. Though she would know that she was on a galley and moving with the current on the Vosk, thus west, she had no real idea as to where she was or what was to be done with her. She was being kept with other women, also ordered to silence, who, with one exception, were slaves. The voices she had heard about her, for the most part, naturally enough, given the crew of the Tais, would have had Cosians accents, or accents akin to them.
Yesterday afternoon, shortly after we had cleared the harbor at Ar's Station, I had drawn the mask of Marsias from my features, and had shaken my head, glad to feel the air of the Vosk about me, so fresh and clear.
"I thought it was you," had said Aemilianus, weakly. "It had to be you. your escape and that of the heinous traitress, Lady Claudia, became generally known after the recall of the troops from the citadel, in the retreat to the landing. We were informed of it by the good Marsias, and his fellow guardsmen. Too, there was no sword like yours in Ar's Station."
"You might perhaps have joined with those of Cos," had said a fellow, "in the fighting. Why did you not do so?
"The wall needed defending," I has said. "One thing led to another." "Ad you not held the wall as long as you did," had said Aemilianus. "And had you not further delayed Cos at the gate, and on the walkway, the day would have been finished long before the arrival of Calliodorus."
Several men had assented to this.
"It was nothing," I had said.
Back by the port side of the stairs leading to the helm deck, a few feet from where Aemilianus sat, knelt Shirley, his beautiful blond slave. No longer was she so pale and drawn as before. Now she was considerably freshened by rest and food. Her blond hair which had been closely cropped, if not shaved, early in the siege of Ar's Station was now growing out. And, already, with the rest and food, her beauty gave hints of returning to a voluptuousness that brings high prices on a slave block, and can drive a master half mad with passion. Too, looking at her, I realized that Aemilianus, too, must be feeling much better, and m
uch stronger. She was in chains. Though the girl loves the master with all her heart and would never dream of fleeing from him, absurd though such a dream might be on Gor, given the branding, the collaring, the closeness of the society, and such, she knows that she is upon occasion to be put in chains. In this act is symbolized his desire of her, that she is worth chaining and keeping. And in this act is symbolized his power over her. Despite their love, she is still his, and a slave.
Even the gentlest and kindest of masters has absolute power over the slave. She is no less owned by him that she would be by the cruelest brute on Gor. Elated and reassured then is the woman that she is chained, in this finding continuing evidence of her master's desire for her, his passion for her, his prizing of her, his determination to keep her for himself. And for her part, she rejoices that she is helpless to escape him, that she truly belongs to him, that she is truly his, legally and otherwise, and that she must, as she intensely desires to do, continue to live for service and love. It is not merely pleasant to own a slave, to dress her as you please, if you wish to permit her clothing, to have her at your bidding, to do with her as you please; it is exalting. The man who has not owned a slave has no conception of the maximums of sexuality, nor has the woman who has not been owned.
"How is my old friend Callimachus, commander of the forces of the Vosk League?" asked Aemilianus of Calliodorus. The body sovereign in the Vosk League, incidentally, at least as I understand it, is its High Council, which is composed of representatives from the member towns.
This Calliodorus, I gathered, then, whoever he was, would be the appointee of that council.
"Hard at work at his desk, attending to numerous administrative duties," said Calliodorus.
"Doubtless he will also be certain to be publicly visible in Victoria," smiled Aemilianus.
"As would you in his situation," smiled Calliodorus.
"Doubtless he will be astonished to learn of yesterday's action at Ar's Station. "Doubtless," agreed Calliodorus. "We may rest assured, of course, that he will conduct a careful investigation."