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

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by Renegades of Gor [lit]


  I saw those small ships which had been in our advance now slowing their

  progress. In a bit, they would be abeam, and later astern. Our ship, that of

  Calliodorus, the Tais, it seemed, would be the first ship into the harbor.

  I met the eyes of the young crossbowman and his friend. We smiled at one

  another, then looked apart. His name was (pg.414) Fabius. The name of his friend

  was Quintus. They were eager, it seemed, to see Port Cos. How marvelous, how

  remarkable, how astonishing is the resilience of youth! To look at them, and see

  their anticipation and eagerness, one would not have thought that they had

  endured trials that would have harrowed many a brave fellow, that they had stood

  on the wall, that they had served on the landing and near the piers. I had given

  each of them a handful of coins that they might buy themselves a girl in Port

  Cos, coins from those taken from the looter, met in the corridor of the citadel,

  leading out to the landing.

  The advance ships were now astern.

  “Stroke!” called the oar master.

  The oars entered the water in unison, drew and rose, shining, dripping, from the

  river.

  I looked again at the tall, cylindrical pharos. At night, its beacon aflame, the

  light multiplied and reflected in the mirrors, it could presumably be seen for

  pasangs up and down the river.

  We were now, I conjectured, some three or four pasangs from the harbor.

  “Stroke!” called the oar master.

  Calliodorus was near me. So, too, was Aemilianus, supported by Surilius.

  The ship was bedecked with flags and streamers. Conspicuous at the port stem

  line snapped a flag of Ar’s Station. On

  The starboard stem line flew that of Port Cos. Aemilianus could not have asked

  for more honor. He was being conducted into Port Cos not as a piteous refugee

  but as a welcome and respected ally.

  I went back over various things in my mind, the Crooked Tarn, the camp of the

  Cosians, the trenches, the approach to the wall, my captivity, my escape, the

  fighting at Ar’s Station, the escape from the piers. How complex and desperate

  had become the world. I felt so small, like a particle adrift on a vast sea,

  beneath a vat sky, a particle taken here and there, at the mercy of the tides,

  the currents, the winds, not understanding. But there were compasses and

  landmarks, as palpable to me as the stars by which I might navigate on Thassa,

  as solid and undoubted as the great brick structure of he pharos (pg.415) of

  port Cos itself. There were the codes, and honor, and steel.

  Two slaves were brought forward, to stand on the bow deck. I looked at one,

  whose name was Claudia. Then she lowered her eyes, timidly. I watched metal

  bonds placed on their wrists and ankles, these bonds attached to the chains

  running to the jutting beams. I watched their bodies fitted into the

  chain-and-leather harnesses, these harnesses also attached to the chains. The

  harnesses were then buckled shit and secured with small padlocks put through

  rings. They were then put prone on the bow deck, one on each side, their

  manacled wrists extended before them, over their head. The head of Claudia was

  turned to the left, her head between her arms; the head of Publia was turned to

  the right, her head between her arms.

  I heard a drummer testing his instrument. I heard, too, some pipes.

  Treason, of horrid and grand dimension, was abroad on Gor. I was confident, too,

  from long ago, it seemed now, from captured papers, taken in Brundisium, that I

  knew at least one of the participants in these treacheries, one who was perhaps

  an arch conspirator, one who was perhaps even the prime architect of these

  devious and insidious designs. And I, like a fool, who had had her once in my

  grasp, in Port Kar, had had her freed, even when she had mocked an scorned me,

  thinking me crippled, and had had her returned in honor and safety to Ar! I

  considered her. How insolent she had been. How high she had flown. I wondered

  what should be her fate.

  We were now nearing the harbor.

  I considered the face of the young warrior, Marcus, near me. How set it seemed,

  how grim.

  “My place, now,” said Calliodorus, “is on the stern castle.” With a bow he

  withdrew.

  A curule chair was brought for Aemilianus and set on the bow deck. Some of his

  high officers were gathered about him.

  Various thoughts passed through my mind. I recalled lovely Phoebe, of Telnus, so

  slim, with her very dark hair, her very white skin. How lonely and unhappy she

  had been as a free woman! How right she looked, clad in the garments of a

  (pg.416) slave. Yet I had not enslaved her, but had kept her, to her

  frustration, merely as a full servant. On the morning I had gone to the trenches

  I had first taken her, clad only in a slave strip, to the wagon of my friend,

  Ephialtes, the sutler, met at the Crooked Tarn. I recalled the well-curved,

  auburn-haired Temione, of Cos, who had worked inside, in the paga room. Then

  there were the women I had met outside, chained beneath the eaves of the left

  wing, Amina, the Vennan, Elene, from Tyros, and Klio, Rimice, and Liomache,

  these latter three, like Temione, from Cos. The somewhat venal master of the

  Crooked Tarn had had the heads of all these shaved, to sell their hair for

  catapult cordage. I also recalled the slave, Liadne, whom I had used beneath her

  master’s wagon, in the storm. It had amused me to have her put, once purchased

  for me by Ephialtes, over the free women on the chain, as first girl.

  I had given Ephialtes my permission, of course, to do much with the women as he

  wished, for example, renting them, trading them, selling them, reducing them to

  bondage, and so on, as the conditions of the market might seem to make most

  judicious. I did not know, of course, if I would ever see him again. I had

  myself sold Elene and Klio in the trenches, in making my way toward the foot of

  the wall, at Ar’s Station.

  I had also, I recalled, met a fellow in the trenches who had been defrauded by a

  Liomache. I did not know if it were the same Liomache as he one on my chain, of

  course. I rather hoped for her sake that it was not. After the fall of Ar’s

  Station the Cosian troops and their allies, mercenary and otherwise, would have

  much more freedom. Too, there might not be so many women available for the men,

  given the large numbers shipped west toward Brundisium, and other destinations,

  some destined doubtless even for the markets of Cos and Tyros themselves. Poor

  Liomache, held there on her chain, helpless, would be exposed to the scrutiny of

  anyone who passed by, and under the conditions, it was almost certain that

  several would pass by. If the fellow from the trench caught sight of her I

  pitied her. Her captivity, that of a free person would be almost certain to be

  promptly replaced (pg.417) with bondage, and a master into which clutches she

  might have most feared to fall.

  I recalled, too, the bearded fellow from the Crooked Tarn who had so humiliated

  and scorned poor Temione, refusing even to be served by her. He did seem to be a

  rude chap. Too, I did not think he would have b
een too pleased with me, either,

  with how I had tricked him, and made away with his dispatches and his tarn. I

  had last seen him chained naked to a ring in the courtyard of the Crooked Tarn,

  unable, thanks to me, it seems, to pay his somewhat extravagant bills. I

  wondered if he had managed to secure redemption from some passing Cosian,

  perhaps a comrade in arms who might have recognized him. This seemed to me not

  unlikely. The Crooked Tarn was a likely stopping place for couriers, and such.

  It did not seem to me likely that I would meet that fellow again. That seemed to

  me just as well.

  I saw some small boats, wreathed with garlands, coming out to meet the flotilla.

  They swarmed about. In them, men, and slave girls, clinging to the masts,

  kneeling in the stern sheets, waved. They would escort us into the harbor.

  “Gentlemen,” said Aemilianus, from his curule chair, ‘as we are nearing Port

  Cos, it behooves me to speak plainly to you. Not all that I say will be welcome

  to your ears. Yet much of it you will have suspected.

  “Speak, Commander,” said a man.

  I did not withdraw from the bow deck, as no one seemed to pay me much attention.

  Had they not wanted me there, or thought that I should not hear, surely I would

  have been advised of this. Too, I gathered that what was to be said, if secret

  now, would soon be common knowledge. Too, there were two or three fellows of

  Port Cos there, those who had set up the outjutting display beams, and would

  presumably handle the forward lines in wharfing. Too, of course, prone on the

  deck, in their shackles, their shackles and chain-and-leather harnesses attached

  to the beam chains, were the two slaves. No matters of prolonged moment would be

  likely to be discussed in the presence of such. Normally slave girls, with a

  snap of the fingers or a wave of the hand, are dismissed from an area when

  sensitive information is to be discussed. They then scurry away, until summoned

  back. Also, interestingly, they will usually take pains on their own (pg.418)

  behalf to avoid such areas. Total ignorance, they know, as they are mere slaves,

  is often in their best interests. If they hear too much they know that it is

  only too easy to dispose of them.

  “What I tell you now,” said Aemilianus, “is already common knowledge in Port

  Cos.”

  “But these things were brought by the dispatch boat this morning?” said a man.

  “Yes,” said he, “and with the routines of the couriers of Port Cos, that we

  might learn them before we disembarked. But there is little here that I have not

  suspected, and that our friend, Calliodorus, recently, has not intimated to me,

  privately.

  I recalled that Calliodorus, even on the first morning out from Ar’s Station,

  after we had attended to the females, those who were now both slaves, and lay

  near us in their chains, had seemed ready, then not ready, to speak to

  Aemilianus of certain weighty matters, that he might have been considering

  conveying to him warnings, or perhaps confiding suspicions or misgivings. He had

  hesitated then, I suspected, because he was not yet sure of such matters, or,

  perhaps, because he had thought it wise to hold them in abeyance until his

  friend was stronger.

  “Stand,” said the keeper of the two slaves, one of the fellows of Port Cos, on

  the bow deck, to the two slaves. They stood up. He checked the chain and leather

  of their harnesses. He lifted their shackled wrists over their head, lifting

  with them part of the chair to which they were attached. Then he let them stand

  there, with their shackled wrists lowered, before them. He did adjust their

  posture, rudely, with a slap or two. Then they stood there, softly, beautifully

  erect, on the bow deck.

  “Hail Port Cos!” cried a fellow in a small boat, off the bow to starboard.

  Behind him there stood a long-legged half-naked slave girl in a bit of a rag.

  “Hail Port Cos!” she cried, happily, waving. “Hail Port Cos!” She was rather

  nice. The collar looked well on her neck. I thought that she, too, might have

  been worthy to put at a prow. Seeing her, both Publia and Claudia stood even a

  little straighter, though apparently paying her no attention.

  (pg. 419) One of the fellows on the bow deck waved to them. “Hail Port Cos!” he

  responded.

  “We are coming to Port Cos,” said Aemilianus. “That will seem to confirm the

  story circulating in Ar, which, I take it, is the official version of what

  occurred at Ar’s Station.”

  “Speak, Commander,” urged the young warrior, Marcus.

  “It will be of interest to you to learn that Ar’s Station was surrendered to Cos

  more than two months ago,” he said, dryly, “before the relief forces could reach

  it. Lacking siege equipment that is why they did not proceed directly to Ar’s

  Station but went into winter quarters.”

  “Ar’s Station was never surrendered!” said a man.

  “I do not understand,” said another. “She fell but seven days ago this

  afternoon.”

  “Thousands must know the falsity of such allegations!” cried another man.

  “Not officially, not in Ar,” said Aemilianus. “They know, on the whole, except

  for rumors, only what they are permitted to know. I suspect it would even be

  unwise o speak certain truths to Ar herself.”

  “I do not understand,” repeated the fellow who had spoken before.

  “The situation is reputed to stand thus,” said Aemilianus. “Supposedly, over two

  months ago, I, and my high officers, and the caste officials, and councils of

  the city, treasonously, and without a fight, surrendered Ar’s Station to a

  delegation of Cosians. In return for this perfidy we received much gold and were

  granted safe passage to Port Cos, within whose walls we are to receive domicile

  and security.”

  “Our arrival here will make it seem so!” cried a man.

  “I fear so,” said another.

  “Would you rather return to the ashes of Ar’s Station?” asked Aemilianus,

  bitterly.

  “Surely those of Port Cos do not believe such lies!” cried a man.

  “Of course not,” said Aemilianus. “The truth is generally known her. It is in

  Ar, and the south, that it will not be known.”

  “Where have you learned of such matters?’ asked a man.

  “Specifically, from the dispatches,” said Aemilianus. “Cos, it seems, had many

  spies. Too, it seems she possesses swift, (pg.420) covert channels of

  communication. I do not doubt but what her work on the continent has been long

  in preparation. Naturally Cosians are in close contact with those of Port Cos,

  whose support to them is important on the river. I would not suppose that there

  is complete openness between them, but there seems to be no problem about

  sharing information of this sort.”

  “Captain Calliodorus takes these reports seriously?” asked a man.

  “Yes,” said Aemilianus. “Indeed, he had ev
en anticipated, as I had, given the

  abandoning of Ar’s Station by Ar, that matters might be construed in some such

  perspective.”

  “It seems the spies of Cos are efficient,” said a fellow.

  “It is said,” said Aemilianus, “as Calliodorus has told me, that even a whisper

  in Ar is heard in Telnus by nightfall.”

  We were nearing the harbor.

  There were clouds of small sails about us now, as many small boats had come out

  to meet us.

  “Oh!” said Publia, as one of the fellows of Port Cos lifted her up lightly in

  his arms and threw her over the rail of the port side of the bow deck. There was

  a sound of chain, pulling against the beam ring, the links suddenly growing

  taut, and Publia, suspended from the beam, in her chain-and-leather harness,

  hung at the port side, out, about a yard from the rail, her feet now slightly

  below the level of the bow deck, over the water. There was a shout of pleasure

  from several of the small boats. Although her weight was substantially borne by

  the harness her small wrists were pulled high over her head, and held in place

  there, close to the chain, by her wrist shackles. Her ankles, too, were closely

  shackled. I considered her small hands. How piteous they appeared, so held in

  place, so helpless in their inflexible metal bonds. The steel, too, clasped her

  fair ankles, closely.

  “There is more,” said Aemilianus, bitterly. “We of Ar’s Station, and those who

  abetted us, not surprisingly, given the falsified and distorted accounts of our

  actions, are held in official dishonor and contempt.”

  There were several cries of rage. Hands clasped the hilts of swords.

  “The proclamations have been posted,” he said.

  One of the fellows of Port Cos then went to Claudia. She (pg.421) looked at me,

  wildly. Then she was lifted up, lightly, in the chain-and-leather harness. The

  fellow held her for a moment, his left hand behind her knees, his right hand

  behind her back. Her eyes were on mine, frightened. Then they widened, suddenly,

  and she gasped, and was thrown over the rail. Then, a moment later, her hands

  pulled high over her head, suspended in her harness, she hung off the starboard

  rail of the bow deck, as Publia did off the port rail. There was a cry of

  pleasure, and admiration, from several of the men about in the small boats. I

 

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