by John Norman
"Perhaps I found your flanks of interest, as those of slave," he said.
She stiffened angrily, but he sensed that something in her was flattered, perhaps the woman, the slave, in her.
"Perhaps," he said, "I come on the business of Telnaria."
"Telnaria?" she said.
"Are you disappointed?" he asked.
"No!" she cried. "That is the last thing I would be," she assured him.
"Oh," he said.
"To spy?"
"No," he said.
"You are a Telnarian dog?" she said.
"I am from the festung village of Sim Giadini," he said, "It is near the heights of Barrionuevo, some miles from the festung of Sim Giadini. Some of the Otungs may know it, from the days when they rode free on the plains of Barrionuevo."
"On the flats of Tung?"
"As you wish," he said.
"A peasant?" she asked.
"Perhaps," said the giant. "I do not know."
"Build up the fire more," she suggested.
"You are sure it is safe," he said.
"Certainly," she said.
He put more wood on the fire.
She smiled.
"The meat is done," he said. He drew the spit from the forked sticks on which it had been supported. He put the meat down on the bearskin. He drew out his knife.
"Feed me!" she said.
"On your knees, and crawl to the fire," he said.
She struggled to her knees, and then, with small movements, inch by inch, made her way to the fire.
"Feed me!" she demanded.
"Why?" he asked.
"I am Hortense," she said, "daughter of Thuron, noble of the Otungs."
"It is late at night," he said, "and one supposes that Otungs would now, in this winter, in this cold, in their halls, and huts, and such, be deep in their furs, would be well abed."
"I do not understand," she said.
"It is nothing," he said.
"I do not understand," she said, uncertainly.
"So there would be little point, really, in my building up the fire."
"I only wished to be warmer," she said.
"It seems unlikely that there would be Otungs about," he said. "Do you not agree?"
"Yes," she said, uncertainly.
"If they were about, surely," said he, "they would have intruded by now."
She nodded, weakly.
"Thus," said he, "it seems, clearly, that we must be quite alone. Do you not agree?"
"Yes!" she said, angrily.
"And in the morning," said he, "when discovery might be more likely, though still a remote possibility, in the morning, when Otungs might possibly be about, though the chances of encountering them would be surely extremely slight, we will not be here."
She looked at him, fearfully.
"Where will you take me?" she asked. "What will you do with me?"
"You are a slave," he said. "I will take you where I wish, and do with you what I please."
"Free me!" she said.
"One does not free slaves," he said, "particularly ones who are well curved."
She made an angry noise, and tore at her bonds, futilely, but, too, he could see that something within her was not displeased at all, something perhaps the woman, the slave.
"Do you wish to be fed?"
"Yes," she said.
"Were you not a camp slave?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
"And you were such for some two years?"
"Yes," she said.
"You must then," he said, "be in the habit of begging and giving pleasure, before you are fed."
"I am a free woman!" she said. "I am Hortense, daughter of Thuron, noble of the Otungs!"
"Slaves are given names by their masters," he said. "What is your name?"
She looked at him, angrily.
He cut a small piece of meat, hot and juicy. She eyed it, covetously.
"What name were you given?" he asked.
"Yata," she said.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"Yata!" she said.
"Yata, what?" he asked.
"Yata, Master!" she said.
"There is one reason for my following you, which does not seem to have occurred to you," he said.
"What is that?" she asked.
"You are a runaway slave," he said.
"No!" she said.
"Surely you are," he said. "And you have now been caught.''
She looked up at him, trembling.
"Perhaps," he said, "I have been sent to apprehend you, and return you to the camp, to your masters."
"Do not!" she wept. "They would cut off my feet! They would kill me!"
"But I have not followed you to return you to your master," he said.
"Thank you, Master!" she cried.
"For you have been given to me," he said, "and it is I who am now your master."
"No!" she said.
"Yes," he said. "You were given to me. You are my slave."
"No!" she wept.
"And were it not such," said he, "I would make you mine now, by claimancy."
"No, no, no!" she wept.
Then she looked up at him.
"Does Yata beg?" he asked.
"Am I still Yata?" she asked.
"That name will do," he said, "unless I see fit to change it."
"It is a Herul name!" she wept.
"It seems fitting," he said, "for one who was a Herul slave."
He rose to his feet.
He looked down at her.
"Does Yata beg?" he asked.
He held the piece of meat, lifted, in his right hand.
"Yata begs!" she wept.
"Now Yata may give pleasure," he said.
"Yes, Master," she whispered.
A bit later she had fed, still kneeling, her hands tied behind her, her head down, reaching down to the snow, retrieving pieces of meat thrown there, before her.
He enjoyed seeing her take meat thusly, before him.
"That is enough," he finally said.
She looked up at him.
"You may come forth," he called out, among the trees. "You have been seen. I know you have been there for some time."
She looked about, startled, and struggled to rise to her feet, but, her ankles crossed and bound, she could not do so. Several fur-clad figures emerged from the trees, from all sides.
"Greetings," said the giant.
He motioned that they might join him about the fire, and partake of the meat, but they remained standing.
"You are Otungs?" asked the giant.
"Yes," said one of the visitors.
"Good," said the giant.
"Perhaps not," said one of the newcomers.
"I am Otung!" cried the girl, from her knees.
"She has no tribe," said the giant. "She is a slave girl."
"I am Hortense," she said, "daughter of Thuron! Free my ankles of the thong that binds them! Let me stand! Cut the thong that binds my wrists!"
He who seemed to be the leader of the fur-clad fellows come from the forest, a large man, bearded, with blond, braided hair falling over his shoulders, looked down upon her.
"You looked well, giving pleasure," he said.
"Perhaps you can give pleasure to all of us," said another of the fur-clad men.
"That is what women are good for," said another.
"Is she yours?" asked the leader of the fur-clad men of the giant.
"Yes," he said.
"What is her name?" asked the leader of the fur-clad men.
"Yata," said the giant.
"A Herul name."
"Yes."
"I am Hortense!" cried the girl. "I am the daughter of Thuron, noble of the Otungs!"
"Thuron is dead," said one of the men.
The girl drew back.
"She was a Herul slave?" asked the leader of the Otungs.
"Yes," said the giant.
"No!" suddenly cried the girl.
"As a Herul
slave, you are useless to us," said one of the Otungs to the girl.
"You were taken with your maidens, while bathing," said one of the Otungs.
"No!" said the girl.
"Your garments were found upon the banks, and in the mud, though soon vanished, the marks of transport poles," said one of the Otungs.
"No, no!" said the girl.
"Where are your maidens?" asked an Otung.
"I do not know," she said.
"They fell to Heruls, and were made slaves," said an Otung.
"I escaped, and fled, and have been hiding, and wandering," said the girl. "I was not made a slave. I can prove that! You see I have no collar, no anklet, no bracelet! Let me be examined by women. You will not find a mark on my body!"
"Why were you not with your maidens?" asked an Otung.
"I went into the woods, to gather flowers," she said, hastily.
"Why did you leave them?" asked an Otung.
"Why did you not look out for them?" asked another.
"Surely you heard the sounds of their capture," said another.
"No, no," she said.
"Your own garments were found with theirs, on the bank," said another.
"But I was not there!" she said.
"Why did you not return to the villages, to rouse the men?" asked an Otung.
"I was trying to elude capture," she said.
"Where did you obtain the garments you are wearing?" asked one of the Otungs.
"I stole them, in my wanderings, from Heruls," she said.
"You were long in your wanderings," said one of the Otungs.
"I should have returned sooner," she said, "but I was captured by this Telnarian dog! I am his prisoner, as you see, but not his slave! I am now rescued!"
"The maidens were comely," said an Otung. "We have learned that they were sold in Scharnhorst, and thence transported to other worlds, where they were to be vended in slave markets.''
"That proves my story!" she said. "Had I been enslaved, I would have shared their fate!"
"Perhaps you were insufficiently comely," said an Otung.
She reacted, as if struck.
"She is comely enough to be vended in a market," said the giant. "Indeed, I think her beauty was such that it was adjudged worthy of being retained among the wagons. Too, I think it amused the Heruls to keep in their lowest bondage, at least for a time, one who had been the daughter of an Otung noble."
"She was a camp slave?" said the Otung leader.
"Yes," said the giant.
"No!" cried the girl.
"You were not a camp slave?" asked the Otung leader.
"No!" said the girl. "I-I was not even a slave!"
"Cut the thongs on her ankles,'' said the leader of the Otungs.
"Thank you, noble lord!" said the girl.
"Remain on your knees," he cautioned her, as she made as though to rise.
"Milord!" she protested.
"In the village," he said, "we shall look into the truth of these matters."
"We have ways, as you know," said one of the Otungs.
"And woe to you," said one of the Otungs, "if you have lied."
"Doubtless Citherix will be pleased to see you returned to the village, and as a slave," said one of the Otungs.
The girl turned white.
"You refused his suits often enough," said one of the Otungs.
The girl, her ankles freed, but her hands still bound behind her, on her knees, trembled.
To these matters the giant was attentive.
"Where did you steal the pelt of a white vi-cat?" asked the leader of the Otungs of the giant.
"It is mine. I did not steal it," said the giant.
"Why are you in the forest?" asked the leader of the Otungs.
"I have come to find Otungs," said the giant.
"But it seems that it is you who have been found by them," said a man.
"It is my way of finding them," said the giant. "Else, why would I build the fire so high?"
"You will now come with us," said the leader of the Otungs.
"Of course," said the giant.
"You know this is the Killing Time?'' asked the leader of the Otungs.
"Yes," said the giant.
"And yet you came?"
"Yes."
"He has with him the pelt of the giant white vi-cat,'' said one of the Otungs.
"That is the pelt of a king," said another of the Otungs.
"I have heard so," said the giant.
"It is all very strange," said one of the Otungs.
"Put out the fire," said the leader of the Otungs. "Destroy all traces of the camp. Gather up the meat. Tie it about the neck of the woman. Gag her. Bring the bearskin, and his goods, and the pelt of the white vi-cat."
"Bring, too, the weapon," said the leader of the Otungs.
"I will bring that," said the giant.
One of the men looked to the leader.
"Very well," said the leader of the Otungs.
"He has a knife," said one of the men.
"A Herul knife," said another.
"I keep that, too," said the giant.
The leader of the Otungs nodded.
The group then left the scene of the small encampment and made its ways through the trees, and the black shadows, trudging through the pale, moonlit snow. The leader of the Otungs went first and, behind him, flanked by two Otungs, came the giant, the great blade upon his shoulder. Then came the rest of the Otungs, some dozen or so. Lastly came the woman, her hands tied behind her, the balance of the roast bear meat tied, rolled and thonged, about her neck. She was gagged. The men did not now wish to hear her speak. Accordingly, she was silenced. Her case, such as it might be, would be considered in the village. Too, in the event she should prove to be a slave, the gag, in its bands, which was a heavy and broad one, denied the meat to her, even that she might somehow touch it with her tongue. The feeding of a slave, as is commonly understood, is subject to the supervision of the master, subject, for example, to his generosity, his convenience, and even his discretion.
…CHAPTER 25…
"There are the men of Rolof," said one of the Otungs.
Other figures, booted, similarly fur-clad, in jackets and cloaks, armed, were seen among the trees.
This had been after a trek of some two hours through the forest, from the giant's small encampment, the fire from which had attracted the attention of the men of Ulrich, for that was the name of the leader of the Otungs, those with whom the giant was now in company.
Some quarter of an hour later another such group, consisting of some nineteen men, was detected, it, too, moving through the forest.
"Those are the men owing faith to the house of Valdemar," said one of the Otungs with the giant.
As time passed, more and more of these groups were observed.
Interestingly, to the giant, these groups, though apparently all Otungs, neither hailed one another, nor marched together.
There were now several such groups, some almost side by side, several within at least yards of one another, who made their way through the snow.
Similar groups, though this was at that time not known to the giant, were converging on a given point from other directions.
At last, through the trees, better than a hundred yards ahead, a long, low feature could be seen. It would have been quite natural, initially, at the distance, and particularly in the light, to have mistaken it for a natural feature, an eccentricity of terrain. It seemed, on the whole, like an extended hillock, or mound.
"We will stop here," said Ulrich.
"Why?" asked the giant, drawing up to him.
"We must wait for admittance," said Ulrich.
"Admittance?"
"To the hall," said Ulrich.
"Ah," said the giant.
Such halls, or, perhaps better, lest a misleading conception be conveyed, common shelters, are encountered more frequently farther to the north. About the structure of wood, formed of stout timbers, or of
great logs, if they may be found, dirt is heaped, and then packed. The hall, or shelter, is oriented north to south, that neither of its main surfaces will be exposed to the northern winds. The entrance, or back of the hall, in a sense, surely that area away from the high seats, faces north, and the front of the hall, where are found the high seats, backs against the southern wall. This particular hall was a large one, for its type, being some seventy-five yards on its long axis; twenty-five yards in width, the roof supported by the walls and two rows of timber columns, in the manner of a three-aisle house; and some four or five yards raised above the surrounding level of the forest. Within the hall itself, of course, whose floor was cut down into the forest floor, it was better than eight or ten yards from the floor, of dirt, to the rafters of the roof. The hall then is half sunken into, or half dug into, the floor of the forest. One descends to the interior floor by means of stone steps. The dirt is heaped some two thirds, or better, of the way up the walls. It does not cover the full height of the exterior walls, or the roof. In the roof, and high on the walls, there are smoke holes. Given the width of the structural timbers it is difficult, unless the holes were to be considerably enlarged, to fire arrows into the hall from the roof, or from ladders, in any martially efficient manner. The dirt packing provides some protection against fire, but, on the whole, given that the gate cannot be forced, the common weapon for reducing such a hall is indeed fire. If one wishes to keep the hall, then one must make do with forcing the gate, or cutting through the walls, at some point or another.
Such structures, it might be noted, in passing, are not designed for defense, but for housing and warmth. They do provide some security, in the sense that they are isolated, in remote areas, and that it is dangerous to approach them. Otungs, and many of the forest peoples, withdraw to, and fight from the stealth, the silence and darkness of the forest itself. Indeed, long ago, imperial cohorts perished, pursuing them in such environments. Hill forts, on the other hand, are known west of the Lothar, among the Basungs. Indeed, it was such forts that hugely stopped the advance of the Heruls into the western forests, long ago, in the winter of 1103, in the chronology of the imperial claiming stone, from the placing of which time, or, at least, history, from the viewpoint of the imperial records, began on Tangara.
The giant could see smoke, in pale wisps, emerging from smoke holes. And through some of these, and chinks in the logs, high in the walls, he could detect some flickering, as of a lighting within.
"So you have come to the hall," said the giant, "and there is no rejoicing?"