by John Norman
One would suppose, of course, that the coming to the hall, from the outside, at such a time, from the dark night and the winter, when one is hungry and cold, would constitute a joyous occasion, one that would be eagerly looked forward to, and retained long afterward in the warmth of memory.
"Among the Otungs, for many years," said Ulrich, "there has been little rejoicing."
"I shall change that," said the giant.
"Let us kill the stranger," said one of the men, angrily.
"Let us clear a space in the snow," said the giant. "We will then consider the matter."
The fellow looked at the mighty stature of the giant, and the great blade upon his shoulder, like a flat, sheathed bolt of sleeping lightning, and looked away.
"These are important times for the Otungs," said the leader of the Otungs. "Strangers are seldom welcome in the forests, but, at this time, in particular, we do not welcome them."
"At this time," said another, "it is common to kill them."
"Perhaps I am not a stranger," said the giant.
"This is the time of the claiming of the hero's portion," said an Otung.
"And the naming of the king," said another.
"I know," said the giant.
"At such a time, you come amongst us?"
"Yes," said the giant.
"Why?" asked a man.
"I would speak with he who is first amongst you," said the giant.
"I do not understand what you are doing here," said one of the men.
"Perhaps I am coming home," said the giant.
…CHAPTER 26…
"Give her," called out Urta, the King Namer, "the drink of truth!"
"No, milord!" cried out the girl. "It is as I have said! I swear it!"
Two men seized the girl by the arms, holding her before the high seats. In the midst of the high seats on the dais was a throne, high-backed, with huge arms, of heavy, ornately carved wood. This throne was empty. To its right there was a small stool. It was from that stool that Urta, the King Namer, had arisen.
"There is the torch," had said Ulrich, waiting outside the hall, several yards away, in the snow. "We may now enter."
He, and his party, including the giant, had then approached the portal of the hall.
"Who is he?" challenged the gatesman, lifting his torch.
"A stranger," had said Ulrich.
"Kill him!" said the guard.
"Do so yourself," said Ulrich.
"You may not enter!" said the gatesman.
"I will," said the giant. "I do. I am."
"Stop him!" cried the gatesman, thrust to the side, staggering against the jamb of the gate.
The giant turned. He surveyed, slowly, evenly, those about the portal. "Who will do so?" he asked.
Then he had turned about, and descended the stone steps to the interior of the hall.
"Who is he, Ulrich?" inquired the gatesman.
"I do not know," said Ulrich.
"What is that you have with you?" asked the gatesman.
"It is the pelt of the white vi-cat," said Ulrich.
"You dare bring such a thing to the hall?" inquired the gatesman.
"It is not mine," said Ulrich. "It belongs to the stranger."
"You do not know him?"
"No."
"How dare he bring such a thing here?"
"I do not know," said Ulrich.
"Surely he does not understand its meaning," said the gatesman.
"I do not know," had said Ulrich.
"Enter," had said the gatesman.
***
"Administer the drink of truth!" commanded Urta, the King Namer.
The girl was dressed now in the beads and robes, and sleeves, of the daughter of an Otung noble. Her hair had been brushed, and braided, and was inwrought with strings of pearls, brought in trade, via Heruls, from Venitzia, or Scharnhorst, as the Otungs have it. Her vesture had been provided by free women in the hall, and she had been so arrayed in a pantry, a storage room. There had been gasps of admiration as she had been brought forth, and conducted to the front of the hall.
One of the men had come forth, from the side, and looked upon her closely, as she had awaited the recognition of Urta, the King Namer. The giant had stood toward the rear of the hall, the blade now sheathed, his arms folded on his broad chest, with Ulrich, and his men.
The two men who held the girl's arms tightened their grip. Another man pulled her head back, by the hair, and, as she was held, her body was drawn back, as well, this bending her backward, hair held. Her mouth was then held upward, facing the rafters. A soft, thrilled gasp of pleasure coursed through the free women present. The men were intent. Another man then forced a block of wood, in which a funnel had been inserted, between her teeth. A fourth man then poured liquid into the funnel, while pinching shut her nostrils. Her eyes were wild. Some liquid spilled at the sides of her mouth. The man then desisted for a moment. In a few moments, in misery, she gasped for breath, and drank. This was repeated, again, and then again, in greater pain and misery, and then, after that, realizing resistance was useless, she, tears in her eyes, swallowed the fluid.
"It is more than enough," said Urta, waving away the fellow with the bottle.
The man holding her bent backward released her.
She stood, unsteadily.
The two men holding her arms now supported her, rather than restrained her.
"Bring a chair for her," said Urta.
The girl sat in the chair, but, soon, began to move her head back and forth, in misery, as though fighting sleep, as though struggling to retain consciousness, and then she slumped in the chair, and half turned in it, grasping one arm.
"No, no," she wept.
She tried, suddenly, to thrust a finger in her mouth, to free herself of the liquid, but, instantly, a man pulled her hand away, and then her arms were held, each wrist by a man, but it was not necessary to hold her thusly for more than a few moments as she half sank down in the chair, and her head went back, over the back of the chair.
"What is that?" asked the giant of Ulrich, at the back of the hall.
"It is the drink of truth," said Ulrich, simply.
"What does it do?" asked the giant.
"You will see," said Ulrich.
***
"Who is that?" had cried Urta, startled, at the appearance of the giant in the hall.
His presence was not easy to conceal, as he had the breadth of a man and a half, and stood easily better than a head above the others in the hall, many of whom were large men, tall men, men of unusual stature.
This was not unusual among the barbarian peoples, the Alemanni, the Vandals, and many others.
It was one reason they tended to inspire fear in the men of the empire. Another reason was because they, the barbarians, were the sort of men they were.
The giant stood in a space which had seemed mysteriously to clear away about him, in the back of the hall, away from high seats, at the foot of the stone stairs which led down into hall.
"It is a stranger," said Ulrich.
"How have you dared to bring him here?" asked Urta.
"It was, I think, his wish," said Ulrich.
"You are a fool!" cried Urta.
"He has with him the pelt of the white vi-cat," said Ulrich.
"Ai!" cried men in the hall. Women, too, cried out. Exchanged were glances of startled surmise.
"Then he is a fool!" cried Urta.
"Or a king," said a man.
"Who are you?" asked Urta of the giant.
"I am Otto," said the giant, "chieftain of the Wolfungs."
There was a cry of amazement, of skepticism, in the hall.
"The Wolfungs no longer exist," said Urta.
"Some survive, some hundreds," said the giant, "in the forests of Varna, to which they were banished, generations ago."
The relationship between the Wolfungs, the smallest of the Vandal tribes, and the Otungs, the largest of the Vandal tribes, and, indeed, the other three tribe
s of the Vandal nation, the Basungs, Darisi and Haakons, had tended to be lost.
"You are Wolfung?" asked Urta.
"I do not think so," said the giant.
"How is it then that you are chieftain?"
"I was lifted upon the shields," said the giant.
"Are you Otung?" asked Urta, the King Namer.
"I do not know," said the giant.
"He has a Herul knife!" said a man.
"He is a Herul spy!" said another.
"No," said the giant.
"How is it that you have a Herul knife?" asked a man.
"It was given to me."
"By a Herul?"
"Yes."
"He is a Herul spy!"
"No," said the giant.
"He brings with him one who was once Hortense, daughter of Thuron," said Ulrich.
This announcement was greeted with interest.
"Bring her forward," said Urta.
The girl, in her furs, gagged, bound, the meat about her neck, shook away the men near her and pressed herself forward, until she stood boldly before the dais, before the high seats, before Urta.
"It is long since we have looked upon you," said Urta.
She uttered muffled sounds, through the gag.
"Are you Hortense, daughter of Thuron?" asked Urta, his question not suggesting that he failed to recognize the girl, but rather that he was inquiring into her condition.
She nodded, vigorously, affirmatively.
"She was a Herul slave," said the giant, "who was given to me. Her name is Yata."
The girl shook her head, desperately, negatively.
"If you are a slave," said Urta, "you should not be standing before a free man. You should be kneeling, your head down, even to the dirt."
The girl straightened her body, boldly.
"Free her," said Urta. "Take her aside. Garb her as a noble's daughter. Then return her before us, that we may inquire into these matters."
Free women rushed to the girl, and one, with the scissors attached to her belt, together with various keys, accessing chests, and such, common signs of the mistress of a great house, cut the bonds on her wrists. Another, carefully, with her hands, undid the gag. Another removed the meat from about her neck, where she had carried it, collarlike, as might have a slave. They then, gathering about her, as though sheltering her, hurried her from the main room of the hall, to an auxiliary chamber, one of several, this one serving as a storage chamber. In their midst she cast a look of triumph and scorn upon the giant.
"Telnarian dog!" she sneered.
"Are you Telnarian?" asked Urta.
"No," said the giant.
"You bring the pelt of the white vi-cat," said Urta.
"I have it with me," acknowledged the giant.
"Do you bring it as a gift for he who will be chosen this year's king?"
"No, it is mine," said the giant.
"Do you think that you are king, that you have such a pelt?" asked Urta.
"No," said the giant. "The pelt of an animal does not make a king."
"What makes a king?" asked Urta.
The giant removed the sling and sheath from his shoulder, and drew from the fur sheath the great blade.
This caught the reddish light in the half-darkened hall, from the coals in the fire pit, from the torches, thick with pitch and resin, in their racks, jutting out from the columns and walls.
"This," said the giant, "is what makes a king."
"The sword makes the king," agreed a man.
"That was the view of Genserix," said a man. Many then looked to the empty throne.
"Who will kill this stranger?" inquired Urta, angrily.
"I have seen him before," said a man. "Or someone much like him."
"But it was long ago," said a man.
"Yes," said another.
"Call Fuldan, the Old," said a man.
"I will fetch him," said a man, turning about, drawing his cloak about him, hurrying from the hall.
"No!" cried Urta. "Who will kill this stranger?"
The giant moved the great blade about. With his strength he handled it easily. He took a stroke with it, about himself, to loosen his muscles. He set his feet apart. Then, both hands on the long hilt, at the ready, he looked about himself.
"What if he is the king?" asked a man.
"I would not lift a blade against the king," said another.
"There are only year kings," said Urta. "That is the wish of the Heruls! There is no king as before."
Men looked to the empty throne.
"I have not come amongst you to be king," said Otto. "I come amongst you to recruit a company."
Men regarded one another.
"I do not come for your high men," said Otto. "I come for your younger sons, for landless men, for heroes, for those to whom adventure and battle are a lure and a life, I come for the Otungs of old, for Otungs as men."
"Kill him!" cried Urta.
Two or three men edged forward, but stayed well beyond the compass of the great blade.
"I am a trained killer," said Otto. "I have been trained in the school of Pulendius, though you know not that place nor what is done there. I have fought in arenas, for the amusement of populaces. I know things about blades, and war, of which you are ignorant. I tell you these things not to boast nor to cause you apprehension, but only that you may understand what it is against which you would stand."
"I fear you not!" cried a young man.
"Nor is it my wish that you should," said Otto.
Otto looked about himself.
"I have no wish to kill Otungs," he said. "Accordingly I shall, of any who now challenge me, cut from them one arm only, and they may choose the arm. If they are right-handed, doubtless they would prefer that it be the left arm which is lost. If they are left-handed, doubtless they would prefer that it be the right arm which is lost."
"Who will challenge him?" called Urta.
None stepped forward, though many looked about, from one to the other.
"We welcome Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs, to our hall," said Urta.
***
Half sitting, half lying in the chair, seemingly asleep, or half asleep, her head back, her eyes closed, the girl, restless, disturbed, twisted and turned.
"Were you Hortense, daughter of Thuron, of the Otungs?" asked Urta.
"Yes," said the girl.
"Were you, some two years ago, surprised with your maidens, while bathing naked in the pool of White Stones, west of the holdings of Partinax?"
"Yes," she said.
"Did you take them there?"
"Yes."
"Surely you were aware of the danger."
"I dismissed such danger," she said.
"Surely your maidens were reluctant to follow you."
"Yes," she said.
"Why did they follow you?" asked Urta.
"Because I teased them and shamed them, if they would not, because I called them cowards, if they would not, because I was a noble, because I was the daughter of Thuron."
"Go on," said Urta.
"In the end," she said, "we were all merry, and eager to go, indeed, it seemed that each of us was vying to outdo the other."
"It was all very naughty, and amusing?"
"Yes," she said.
"It was pleasant in the water, bathing, playing, splashing about?"
"Yes," she said.
"Then you and your maidens were surprised by Heruls."
"Yes."
"You were captured by them?"
"Yes."
"And carried away, to be made slaves?"
"Yes."
"Every one of you?"
"Yes."
"With no exceptions?"
"No."
"You were not then alone in the forest, away from the scene, gathering flowers or such?"
"No."
"You were captured with your maidens?"
"Yes."
"And were you all, without exceptions, including yourself, made
slaves?"
"Yes."
There was much response to this in the hall. "The slave!" cried a woman, angrily.
The girl in the chair squirmed.
"But there was no sign of bondage on you when you were found by Ulrich and his men in the forest, no collar, or anklet, or such."
"No."
"And the women tell us that you do not bear a slave brand."
"No," she said, "I am not marked."
"Why are these things as they are?" asked Urta.
"Among Heruls," she said, "what could a woman of our species be but a slave?"
"What was the fate of your maidens?" asked Urta.
"They were sold in Scharnhorst, to Telnarian agents," she said. "Thence they were sold later to wholesalers, of diverse species, and thence sent to various far worlds, there to be sold a third time, there to learn their fate in slave markets."
"How did you learn these things?"
"It pleased the Heruls to inform me, while I knelt abjectly, head to the dirt, before them," she said.
"But you were kept among the wagons?"
"Yes," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"I was perhaps found desirable," she said.
"As a slave is desirable?"
"Yes."
"In that way?"
"Yes."
One of the women in the hall gasped.
"Be silent!'' said another woman to the one who had permitted the small sound to escape from her lips.
"Too," said the girl, "I was the daughter of a noble. Thus I think they enjoyed keeping me with the wagons, being pleased to be served by one who had once been a noblewoman. Too, in the beginning they found me arrogant, and it pleased them that I should be well taught my slavery."
"And did you learn it well?"
"Yes."
There was a soft, half-suppressed, thrilled cry from several of the free women in the hall.
"No! No!" cried one woman, angrily. "Slave! Slave!" she cried.
"I do not understand," said Urta, "why you, and your maidens, surely aware of the risks run, went to such an isolated, lonely place."
"We were courting the collar," said the girl. "I think it was only later that I fully realized that, and the others, too, when we were bound together, later, helpless in our cords. We had wanted to become slaves. That is why we did what we did. We wanted to have no choice but to love and serve, to be owned by masters.''
"No, no!" cried an angry free woman in the hall.