Norman, John - Gor 23 - Renegades of Gor.txt

by Renegades of Gor [lit]

  created from the flattened ruins of burned, razed buildings, the debris sunk in

  cellars, and basements, and leveled, or hauled away, was the marshaled might of

  Cos in the north!

  I motioned eagerly for Lady Claudia to climb the rubble, that we two, together,

  might stand in that opening and regard the grandeur of war.

  (pg.259) “Do you see how it is, that men can love it?” I asked.

  “It frightens me!” she gasped.

  “Look at them,” I said, “the soldiers, their glory, their strength!”

  “It terrifies me!” she wept, the wind moving the veil against her lips.

  “How splendid it is!” I cried.

  “I belong naked in chains!” she suddenly cried.

  “Yes,” I said, seizing her arm, “you do!”

  Had I not held her arm, I fear she might have swooned on the rubble.

  We then heard, from all about, before us, the notes of trumpets.

  “The men are moving!” she said.

  “It is the attack,” I said.

  “They are silent!” she said. Hitherto the trumpets had been followed by great

  cheering.

  “They have had their fill of shouting, and such,” I said. “They come now to

  finish the matter.”

  Light-armed troops hurried forward, slingers and archers, and javelin men, to

  keep defenders back, as they could, from the crenels. Under their cover the

  ladder brigades followed and the grapnel men; behind these came scalers,

  crouching, protected under the shield roofs of infantry men.

  “The wall will be attacked at several points,” I said, “to spread the

  defenders.”

  She suddenly gasped.

  “What is wrong?” I asked.

  “I thought I saw a building move,” she said, “back by the other buildings.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “It does not matter,” she said, “it was only an illusion, a ripple in the air, a

  matter of the waves of heat rising from the stone, the debris.

  “Where?” I asked.

  She pointed. Then she gasped, again.

  “It is no illusion,” I said. “It is moving. There is another, too, and another.”

  “Buildings cannot move!” she said.

  “I count eleven,” I said. “They can be moved in various ways. Some are moved

  from within, by such means as men (pg.260) thrusting forward against bars, or

  tharlarion, pulling against harnesses attached to bars behind them, such

  apparatuses internal to the structure. Some, on the other hand, look there,

  there is one, are drawn by ropes, drawn by men or tharlarion. That one is drawn

  by men. See them?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  There must have been at least fifty ropes, and fifty men to a rope. They seemed

  small yet, even in their numbers, at this distance.

  “Even so, how can such things be moved?” she said.

  “They are not really buildings as you think,” I said, “made of stone, and such.

  They are high, mobile structures, on wheels. They are heavy, it is true, but

  they are light, considering their size. They are wooden structures, frameworks,

  covered on three sides with light wood, sometimes even hides. The hides will be

  soaked with water as they approach more closely, to make it difficult to fire

  the structure. They overtop the walls. Drawbridges can then be opened within

  them and men can pour out, preferably down, this giving them momentum for the

  charge, over the walls, others following them up the ladders within. There are

  many types of such structures. Some are even used on ships. We call them

  generally castles or towers. As they are used here, one would commonly think of

  them, and speak of them, as siege towers.”

  “They are terrible things,” she said.

  “Even one of them,” I said, “from the platforms and landings within, and by

  means of the ladders, bringing men from the ground, may feed a thousand men into

  a city in ten Ehn.

  “They are like giants,” she said.

  “There does, indeed, seem to be stately menace in them,” I said.

  We stood framed in the great, jagged hole.

  “Come away,” I said, then suddenly. I dragger her back, behind me, down the

  rubble into the cell. I went tot he executioner and drew away his mask, drawing

  it then over my own head. I went to Lady Publia, who lay in the debris, covered

  with dust. I brushed her with the side of my foot, and she did not move. I then

  kicked her with the side of my foot, and she still lay still. I did not think

  she was dead. She had (pg.261) been the most sheltered of all of us when the

  wall had burst in. There was no blood about the hood or ropes. I did not even

  think she was unconscious. It was my surmise that she had been hoping against

  hope to be ignored, or not to be noticed.

  I did not know, but I doubted that she, lying where she was, confused and

  frightened, down amidst the rubble near the door, had even heard us, high in the

  aperture, above her, across the cell. If she had heard us, I did not think she

  would have been able to make out our words, or, probably, even whose voices she

  heard, or their location, except with respect to her, she doubtless by now

  helplessly disoriented in the hood. Perhaps she had hoped that she might be the

  sole survivor of the strike. I did not know. In any event, she, hooded, and

  helplessly bound, would have at best only a very imperfect understanding of what

  had occurred. Presumably she would not know, for example, who might have

  survived and who not. Gagged, too, of course, she could not even beg for

  information. This amused me.

  I motioned that Lady Claudia should be silent. I looked down at Lady Publia,

  lying so still. I supposed now she was pretending to be dead, or, at least,

  unconscious. There are numerous ways in which such fraud may be terminated, for

  example, to throw the woman into water, to hold her head under water for a bit,

  to see if she tries to free her head, sputtering and begging for mercy, to put

  her under the whip, to use the bastinado in the soles of her feet, to claw

  unexpectedly at the soft flesh behind her knees, even to lightly caress the

  soles of her feet, and so on. I wanted something, rather, which would prove to

  Lady Publia, even if to her profound humiliation, what she was. First, I

  separated the ropes a bit on her upper body and put my ear to her heart. It was

  beating, so she was alive, as I thought. I also heard the heart rate increase,

  excitedly, she frightened, and knowing I was making this determination. Still

  she pretended to unconsciousness.

  I then lifted her up a bit, supporting her with my hand behind her back, and put

  my other hand to her belly. She tried to pretend to be unconscious. She tried to

  hold herself still. But soon the very physiology of her body, almost

  autonomically, became active, and I felt the gathering heat (pg.262) and the oil

  and openness of her, her vitality, readiness and need. Then, surrendering, she

  moaned and squirmed. Then, piteously, abandoning all effort at deception, she

  thrust hers
elf against me, offering herself to me, whoever I might be, for use

  as a slave.

  I then withdrew my hand and, as she moaned piteously, helplessly, threw her to

  my left shoulder. This keeps the sword arm free. I carried her with her head to

  the rear, as a slave is carried. She would think herself, I was certain, on the

  shoulder of the executioner. Too, she could feel the hood I wore, against the

  left side of her waist. I then, followed by Lady Claudia, carried her from the

  ruins of the cell.

  16 I Assume Command

  (pg.263) “Where have you been?” called a fellow outside the cell, approaching.

  “They are moving forward even now! The ram will be at the gate again in Ehn!”

  I lifted my right arm, acknowledging his words. We had not seen the ram from the

  cell. It had been perhaps obscured by the main gate’s west bastion. He turned

  about and I followed him through the corridor, presumably to the height of the

  forward wall.

  Lady Publia then began to squirm madly on my shoulder, considering such might be

  her last opportunity perhaps to draw attention to herself. She did call

  attention to herself, but mainly to find herself the butt of jeering remarks,

  which, even hooded, she could heard well enough; too, several of the men, and

  women, struck her as we passed, she reacting, startled, and in pain. By the time

  we reached the wall I did not doubt she would be well bruised. Lady Claudia

  followed, closely, frightened, miserable. It seemed she cried out, softly, as

  the blows struck my moving, helpless, well-curved burden, almost as though she

  felt rather they should have been hers to endure. She even sobbed. If Lady

  Publia heard these tiny noises, and associated them with Lady Claudia,

  presumably she thought that Lady Claudia was accompanying the executioner to the

  wall, doubtless as she herself would have. She had been quite cruel to us, I

  recalled, as our warder, and had much mocked Lady Claudia in her distress, when

  Lady (pg.264) Claudia, rather than she, had worn the ropes. Now, to her horror,

  she found that it was she herself, unknown to her compatriots, who was being

  carried to the wall. She herself, doubtless, had the situation been reversed,

  would have followed the executioner eagerly, and, later, with sardonic

  amusement, as the spectacle unfolded, done her best to increase Lady Claudia’s

  misery. That being so, perhaps she could not understand the sobs, and the sounds

  of commiseration, she heard behind her. But she, unlike Lady Claudia, had not

  yet been taught her form of humanity and her sex. She was, however, learning

  something of the preciousness of life.

  Then, after a long, spiral climb, we emerged through a guard station, and onto

  the wall. It was bright and windy there. Lady Publia, feeling the cool air and

  wind, emitted a long, helpless, miserable groan.

  “There,” said the fellow we had been following. He pointed to the battlements

  over the main gate, higher than those on the wall generally. On that creneled,

  raised platform, already in its mount, I could see the long, slim, polished

  impaling spear. He then left us.

  I looked over the wall and noted that the long, rolling, shedlike structure was

  quite near, beneath which the battering ram, on its ropes, was slung. It had not

  been visible from the cell, as I had speculated, as it had been obscured by the

  gate’s west bastion. Some of the ladder men and grapnel crews were already

  probing the walls. The siege towers were still some hundreds of yards away.

  A quarrel sputtered against the interior of an embrasure, chipping it and

  glancing away, upward.

  As I went toward the gate’s battlements a grapnel looped over the wall

  gracefully and fell behind the walkway. Considering the arc, its width and

  height, I assumed it had been lobbed there by an engine. It was drawn forward

  and one of the hooks caught and the rope sprang taut. Such things are generally

  not much good in this form of fighting except for secret ascents, say, at night,

  when they are not noticed, or there are too many of them to deal with. They are

  much more useful, in my opinion, at sea, as in, say, drawing ships within

  boarding distance of one another, the ropes then usually being attached to

  chains some ten feet or so behind the hooks. This makes it hard to cut them

  free. Boarding hooks, on poles, are (pg.265) often used, too, for such purposes,

  when one can get close enough. These are sometimes sheathed with tin near the

  points, again to make it harder to cut or chop them away. Pikes for repelling

  boarders, it might be noted, are often greased near the blade end. This makes it

  harder for boarders to grasp them, wrenching them away, forcing gaps in the pike

  wall, and so on.

  I will append one qualification to these observations pertaining to grapnels

  which is to acknowledge the giant, chain grapnel, and its relative, the grapnel

  derrick. The giant grapnel is hurled by an engine and then, either with the

  second arm of the engine, or by the same arm, reversed, drawn back with great

  force. This can rip away the crests of walls, tear off roofs, and such. If

  Cosians used them here they might have created gaps in the battlements. The

  effectiveness of such a device, however, given the weights involved, and the

  loss of force in the draw, is much compromised by the necessity of extreme

  proximity to the target. Also the defenders may be expected to free or dislodge

  the grapnel if possible.

  The derrick grapnel is much what the name suggests. It is used from walls,

  dangled down, and then drawn up with a winch. If the wall is a harbor wall it

  can capsize a ship. If the wall is a land wall, it can, with luck, topple a

  siege tower. This device also, however, tends to be ineffective except under

  rather optimum, special conditions. For example, very few captains are likely to

  get their ships within range of a derrick grapnel. Would you?

  I watched the rope on the grapnel for a moment and noted that although it was

  taut it did not exhibit the differential tensions which it would if it were

  being climbed. I pulled it loose then and, letting it tautness do the work, let

  it fly back over the walkway and the crenelation. Had I more time or been of

  Ar’s Station, perhaps I might have waited until it was being climbed and then,

  after a while, cut the rope. This sort of thing, as you might imagine, tends to

  be somewhat frustrating to the fellows who are climbing the rope, particularly

  if they are some seventy feet or so up the wall at the time. It take great

  courage, incidentally, to climb such a rope in daylight under battle conditions.

  I did not doubt but that one or tow of the fellows on the other side of the wall

  were probably just as pleased that it had come back as it did. It (pg.266) also

  takes great courage, incidentally, though it is much easier to do, to climb a

  siege ladder, particularly when the walls are heavily or stoutly defended. It is

  better, I think, for the individual attacker, particularly if the walls are

  high, over twenty feet, say, to try to enter over the bridge of a siege tower

  or, even better, through a breached wall or gate.

  I looked th
rough the crenelation again, standing back from it. It takes time to

  move such cumbersome objects. Their progress forward was steady, but so slow, it

  seemed sometimes almost like watching the hands of a clock move.

  I passed a lad standing behind one of the embrasures with a crossbow. He was too

  young to be on the wall. One quarrel reposed in the guide of his bow. Beside

  him, leaning against the inside of the parapet, were some more quarrels, only

  two of which were crafted, one feathered, one with light metal fins. The others

  were little more than filed rods, neither feathered nor finned. With these, too,

  there were some wooden quarrels, blunt-headed, such as boys sometimes use for

  bringing down birds. I did not think they would be effective. Perhaps, ideally

  targeted, launched from within a yard or so, one might cause a fellow to lose a

  grip on a ladder. More likely they would serve as little more than irritants.

  I smelled hot oil on the parapet, and a cauldron of it was boiling, which I

  passed. Buckets on long handles could be dipped into this, the oil fired, and

  then poured on attackers. The oil tends to hold the fire on the object. I passed

  two catapults on the walkway. They were quiet now, not even manned.

  I proceeded on toward the raised platform over the main gate, where the impaling

  spear, flashing in the sun like a polished needle, was mounted. I passed another

  lad, too, also, in my opinion, too young to be on the wall. Better these fellows

  had been running about the windy corners of the markets, looking for the veils

  to blow about the faces of free women or pursing slave girls, pulling up their

  brief skirts, playing “brand guess,” or busying themselves playing stones or

  hoops behind the shops. He was crouching beside a pike of stones, building

  stones, and tiles. It is hard to throw these with accuracy without standing

  above the crenelation. This exposes the caster, of course. He seemed lost in his

  thoughts. (pg.267) I wondered if he had been on the wall before. I supposed he

  had a mother, who loved him.

  When I passed him, he looked up. I saw then that he had been on the wall before,

  and that, though his age might indeed be that of a boy, that he was a man. He

  then put down his head again, returning to his reflections, whatever might have

  been their nature. Near the steps to the raised platform I passed two men with