by John Norman
"I have been patient with you, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.
"We are grateful for your patience," said Bran Loort. He looked about, at his cohorts, grinning. He set his staff, butt down, in the dirt.
I sensed that the codes were to be invoked. What Bran Loort and his fellows had done exceeded the normal rights of custom, the leniencies and tacit permissions of a peasant community; commonly the codes are invisible; they exist not to control human life, but to make it possible. The rapes of Verr Tail and Radish, interestingly, had not counted as code breaches, though in neither case had explicit permission for their conquest been granted by Thurnus; such permission, in such cases, was implicit in the customs of the community; it did not constitute a "taking from" but a brief use of, an "enjoyment of," without the intent to do injury to the honor of the master; "taking from," in the sense of the code is not, strictly, theft, though theft would be "taking from." "Taking from," in the sense of the codes, implies the feature of being done against the presumed will of the master, of infringing his rights, more significantly, of offending his honor. In what Bran Loort had done, insult had been intended. The Gorean peasant, like Goreans in general, has a fierce sense of honor. Bran Loort had known exactly what he had been doing.
"I am disposed to be merciful, Bran Loort," said Thurnus, looking at me. "You may now request my permission for what you have done to this slave."
"But," said Bran Loort, "I do not request your permission."
"I must then call the council," said Thurnus, "that we may consider what is to be done with you."
Bran Loort, throwing his head back, laughed, as did his fellows.
"Why do you laugh, Bran Loort?" inquired Thurnus.
"Only the caste leader may call the council," said Bran Loort. "And I do not choose to summon it into session."
"Are you caste leader in Tabuk's Ford?" asked Thurnus.
"I am," said Bran Loort.
"Who has said this?" inquired Thurnus.
"I have said it," said Bran Loort. And he gestured to his fellows. "We have said it," he added.
There were nine of them, including Bran Loort. They were large, strong young men. "Yes," said more than one of them.
"I am sorry," said Thurnus. "I had thought that you had in you the makings of a caste leader."
"I am caste leader," said Bran Loort.
"In what village is that?" asked Thurnus.
"In Tabuk's Ford," said Bran Loort, angrily.
"Have you conveyed this intelligence to Thurnus of Tabuk's Ford?" inquired Thurnus.
"I do so now," said Bran Loort. "I am first in Tabuk's Ford."
"I speak for Thurnus, caste leader in the village of Tabuk's Ford," said Thurnus. "He speaks it not so."
"I am first here," said Bran Loort.
"In the name of Thurnus, he of the peasants, caste leader of the village of Tabuk's Ford," said Thurnus, "I speak. He, Thurnus, is first."
"I am first!" cried Bran Loort.
"No," said Thurnus.
Bran Loort turned white.
"Will it be the test of five arrows?" asked Thurnus.
In this the villagers, with the exception of the two contestants, leave the village and the gate is closed. Each contestant carries in the village his bow, the great bow, the peasant bow, and five arrows. He who opens the gate to readmit the villagers is caste leader.
"No," said Bran Loort, uneasily. He did not care to face the bow of Thurnus. The skill of Thurnus with the great bow was legendary, even among peasants.
"Then," asked Thurnus, "it will be the test of knives?"
In this the two men leave the village and enter, from opposite sides, a darkened wood. He who returns to the village is caste leader.
"No," said Bran Loort. Few men, I thought, would care to meet Thurnus in the darkness of the woods armed with steel. The peasant is a part of the land. He can be like a rock or a tree. Or the lightning that can strike without warning from the dark sky.
Bran Loort lifted his staff. "I am of the peasants," he said.
"Very well," said Thurnus. "We shall subject this matter to appropriate adjudication. The staff will speak. The wood of our land will decide."
"Good!" said Bran Loort.
I noted that Sandal Thong had slipped from the crowd. None other seemed to note her going.
Slowly, step by step, Thurnus descended the stairs from his hut.
Melina, eyes glittering, stepped back from the foot of the stairs. Men, and villagers all, and slaves, cleared a space near the hut of Thurnus.
"Build up the village fire," said Thurnus. Men hurried to do this. Thurnus opened his tunic, then pulled it down about his waist. He flexed his arms, and hitched up the skirt of the tunic, higher in his belt, until it was high on his thighs. Bran Loort, too, did these things.
Thurnus came to me and lifted me to my feet, his hands on my arms. "Is it because of your beauty, little slave," he asked, "that this has come about?"
I could not answer him, so miserable I was. I could not stand without his holding me.
"No," said Thurnus. "There is more involved here." He turned me about and untied my wrists, and unknotted the rope from my neck, throwing it away.
I stood in my brand and rope collar before him.
I looked up at him. He had been kind to me.
"Gag her and put her in the rape-rack," he said to a man.
I regarded him, startled, as I was dragged from his presence. I would be secured in the rape-rack, the ready spoils for the victor. I did not know why I would be gagged.
The young men of Bran Loort gathered about him, encouraging him. Thurnus stood to one side, not seeming to pay them attention.
With a cry of misery I was thrown onto the beams of the rack. My left ankle was thrust into the semi-circular opening in the lower left ankle beam and the upper left ankle beam, with its matching semi-circular opening, was dropped, and locked, in place. My other ankle was similarly secured in the separate matching beams for the right ankle. The rape-rack at Tabuk's Ford is a specially prepared horizontal stock, cut away in a V-shape at the lower end. My wrists were seized and my hair and I was thrown down on my back, wrists held in place, and my head, too, by my hair, in three semi-circular openings. A single beam, with matching semi-circular openings, on a heavy hinge, closes the stock. It was swung up and then dropped in place, and locked shut. I was now held in the stock, on my back, by my ankles, wrists and neck. I could move very little. I closed my eyes. I opened them to see a man above me. Looking up and back, my head down, I saw a piece of cloth in his hand. It was large. I wept as it was wadded, painfully, in my mouth. He then secured it in place with a narrow piece of folded cloth which slipped deeply between my teeth. He then, with another three scarves, covering the bottom portion of my face, one over the other, completed the task of gagging the slave girl. I could not utter a sound. I did not know why I had been gagged. My neck rested on the back of the semi-circular opening in the lower beam. It was painful. I am Judy Thornton, I tried to tell myself. I am Judy Thornton! I am an Earth girl! This cannot be happening to me! But I knew I was no longer Judy Thornton, and I knew I was no longer of Earth. I knew I was now only Dina, a slave, and was now only of Gor! I was now only Dina, a Gorean slave at the mercy of masters.
I turned my head to the side, to see the combat. I saw Turnip looking at me. Her eyes were frightened. Then she looked away. It could have been she in the stock. Radish was watching Thurnus, frightened. So, too, was Verr Tail. Sandal Thong was nowhere to be seen.
"Are you ready, Thurnus?" asked Bran Loort.
Villagers had cleared a circle. The fire was now high, and one could see well.
"Will you not require a staff?" asked Bran Loort, grinning.
"Perhaps," said Thurnus. He looked at the eight cohorts of Bran Loort. "These fellows, I gather," said Thurnus, "will not enter our competition."
"I am sufficient onto the task of putting a slack, fat fellow such as you under caste discipline," grinned Bran Loort.
&nb
sp; "Perhaps," granted Thurnus.
"You will need a staff," pointed out Bran Loort.
"Yes," said Thurnus. He turned to one of Bran Loort's cohorts. "Strike at me," he said.
The young man grinned. He smote down at Thurnus. Thurnus seized the staff and, suddenly, with strength like that of a larl, jerked the young man toward him, at the same time kicking upward savagely, blasting the fellow in the teeth with the heel of his sandal, the young man reeling back, blood spattering from his nose and mouth, clutching at his face, the staff in the hands of Thurnus. There were teeth in the dirt. The young man sat, dazed, on the ground.
"A good staff," said Thurnus, "must be one with which one can thrust," and, saying this, looking at one young man, he drove the staff, like a spear into the ribs of another, "and slice," added Thurnus, who then smote the first fellow, whose attention was now on his struck fellow, along the side of the face. The first fellow fell in the dirt clutching his ribs. I had little doubt that one or more had been broken; the second fellow lay inert in the dirt, blood at the side of his head. "But," said Thurnus, "a good staff must also be strong." The young men stood, tensed, five of them, and Bran Loort. "Come at me," said Thurnus to another of the men. Enraged the fellow charged. Thurnus was behind him and smote down, shattering the heavy staff across the fellow's back. He lay in the dirt, unable to rise. The staff had been more than two inches in diameter. "That staff, you see," said Thurnus, instructing the younger men, "was flawed. It was weak." He gestured to the fellow lying in the dirt, his face contorted with pain, scratching at the dust. "It did not even break his back," said Thurnus. "Such a staff may not be relied upon in combat." He turned to one of the four young men, and Bran Loort. "Give me another staff," he said to one of them. The young man looked at him and, frightened, threw him the staff, not wanting to come close to him. "A better weapon," said Thurnus, hefting the staff. He looked at the fellow who had thrown him the staff. "Come here," he said. Uneasily the lad approached. "The first lesson you must learn," said Thurnus, swiftly jabbing the staff deeply, without warning, into his stomach, "is never to give a weapon to an enemy." The young man, bent over, retched in the dirt. Thurnus smote him sharply on the side of the head, felling him. He then turned to the other three young men, and Bran Loort. "You should keep your guard up," said Thurnus to one of them, who immediately, warily, raised his staff. Thurnus then smote another fellow, at whom he did not appear to be looking, and, before yet another could react, felled him, as well. Thurnus then turned, looking upon these two fellows lying in the dirt. "You, too, of course," he said to them, "should keep your guard up. That is important." This turning of his back doubtless seemed to offer a favorable opportunity to his remaining foes. Surely Thurnus had not forgotten them! I wanted to cry out, to warn him, but I could not do so. I wore a gag of Gor. I could do no more than squirm helplessly in the rack. The other young man, he beside Bran Loort, then suddenly struck at Thurnus, but Thurnus, clearly, as I now understood, had been expecting the blow. He had turned, and parried it, and then slipped behind the other's staff, bringing up the lower end of his own staff. The fellow's face turned white and he sank away. "Aggressiveness is good," said Thurnus, "but beware of the counterstroke." Thurnus looked about himself. Of the nine men only one, Bran Loort, now stood ready. Thurnus grinned. He indicated the young men, strewn about. "These others, I now gather," said Thurnus, "will not enter our competition."
"You are skillful, Thurnus," said Bran Loort. He held his staff ready.
"I am sorry that I must now do this to you, Bran Loort," said Thurnus. "I had thought you had in you the makings of a caste leader."
"I am caste leader here," said Bran Loort.
"You are young, Bran Loort," said Thurnus. "You should have waited. It is not yet your time."
"I am caste leader here," said Bran Loort.
"The caste leader must know many things," said Thurnus. "It takes many years to learn them, the weather, the crops, animals, men. It is not easy to be caste leader."
Thurnus turned away, his head down, to tie his sandal. Bran Loort hesitated only an instant, and then he struck down, the staff stopped, striking across Thurnus's turned shoulder. It had been like striking a rock. Bran Loort stepped back.
"Too, to earn the respect of peasants," said Thurnus, straightening up, retrieving his staff, his sandal tied, "the caste leader should be strong."
Bran Loort was white-faced.
"Now let us fight," said Thurnus.
Swiftly did the two men engage with their quick staves. There was a fierce ringing of wood. Dust flew about their ankles. Blows, numerous and fierce, were struck and parried. Bran Loort was not unskilled, and he was young and strong, but no match was he for the grim and mighty Thurnus, caste leader of Tabuk's Ford, my master. As well might a young larl with spotted coat be matched against a giant, tawny claw Ubar of the Voltai. At last, bloodied and beaten, Bran Loort lay helpless at the feet of Thurnus, caste leader of the village of Tabuk's Ford. He looked up, glazed-eyed. Some five of his cohorts, two of whom had recovered consciousness, seizing their staves, edged nearer.
"Beat him!" cried Bran Loort, pointing out Thurnus.
There was a cry of anger from the onlookers.
The young men raised their staves, together, to charge upon Thurnus, who turned, to accept their challenge.
"Stop!" cried a voice. There were the shrill squeals of sleen. Sandal Thong stood at the edge of the circle, in each fist the leash, a short leash, of a sleen. The animals strained against the leashed collars, trying to creep forward, their eyes blazing, saliva loose and dripping from their jaws, the wet fangs shining in the firelight. "On the first man who moves," cried Sandal Thong, "I shall set a sleen!"
The young men drew back.
Melina cried out with fury.
"Throw down your staves," ordered Thurnus. They, looking at the sleen, threw down their staves.
"She is only a slave!" cried Melina. "How dare you interfere?" she cried to Sandal Thong.
"I freed her this afternoon," laughed Thurnus. I saw no rope collar on her throat. She had removed it when she had stolen away from the circle of the fire.
She stood there, holding the sleen leashes, a proud free woman, in the firelight, though she wore still the rag of a slave.
"On your feet, Bran Loort," said Thurnus.
The young man, unsteadily, stood up. Thurnus, swiftly, tore away the tunic about his waist, and, taking him by the arm, rudely thrust him to the heavy rack, where I lay helplessly secured. "Here is the little slave you find so lovely, Bran Loort," said Thurnus. "She lies before you, helpless." Bran Loort looked at me, miserable. "She is a juicy little beauty, is she not?" asked Thurnus. I recoiled on the beams, so spoken of. "Is she not a pretty little cake?" asked Thurnus. "Yes," whispered Bran Loort. "Take her," said Thurnus. "I give you my permission." Bran Loort looked down. "Go ahead," urged Thurnus. "Take her!" "I cannot," whispered Bran Loort. He was a defeated man.
Bran Loort turned away from the rack and bent down to pick up his tunic. He went to the gate and it was opened for him. He left the village of Tabuk's Ford.
"Follow him, who will," said Thurnus to the young men who had been his cohorts.
But none made to follow their former leader.
"Of what village are you?" asked Thurnus.
"Tabuk's Ford," they said, sullenly.
"And who is caste leader in Tabuk's Ford?" asked Thurnus, sweating, grinning.
"Thurnus," they said.
"Go to your huts," he said. "You are under caste discipline." They withdrew from the circle of the fire. I expected that they would tend his fields for a season.
Melina had withdrawn from the circle of the fire, returning to the hut she shared with Thurnus.
"Let there be made a feast," decreed Thurnus. There was a cheer.
"But first, Thurnus, my love," said Melina, speaking now from the doorway of their hut, "let us drink to the victory of the night."
There was silence.
She carr
ied a metal goblet, and, slowly, in stately fashion, descended the steps to the ground, approaching Thurnus.
She lifted the cup to him. "Drink, noble Thurnus, my love," said she to him. "I bring you the brew of victory."
Suddenly I realized what must be her plan. Melina was a shrewd, clever woman. She had counted on Bran Loort and his young men defeating Thurnus. Yet, in the event they did not manage this, she had purchased a powder from Tup Ladletender, the peddler. Had Bran Loort been victorious she had promised me to him. But, too, I had doubtless been promised to Tup Ladletender, in exchange for the powder, were it successful. In each plan Dina, the slave girl, had been the bauble with which to bring about her will. Had Bran Loort been successful, I would have been his. Ladletender's powder would then be unnecessary, and would be returned to him. If Bran Loort was unsuccessful, then the way would be clear to use Ladletender's powder, and I, of course, Bran Loort defeated, could then be straightforwardly tendered in payment for it. The plans, sharp alternatives, excluded one another; their common element was I, as payment. Melina had planned well.