Vagabonds of Gor

by Norman, John;

  "No," I said.

  "Very well," said he. "The choice is yours." He signaled to some fellows about him, crossbowmen. There were some ten of them. They drew their quarrels and placed them in the guide.

  "Wait!" I said.

  He lifted his hand, the bowmen then not leveling their weapons.

  "The gold will never be paid for her!" I said.

  "Why not?" he asked.

  "Saphronicus," I said, "is dead."

  He seemed suddenly startled.

  I assumed, of course, surely a reasonable assumption, and apparently a correct one, that he was the agent of Saphronicus, commander of the forces of Ar in the north. Saphronicus, presumably the major conspirator in the north, would be the fellow most likely to direct Octantius and provide the reward.

  "Saphronicus is not dead," said Octantius.

  "He is dead," I insisted.

  "How have you heard this?" inquired Octantius, smiling.

  "I have heard it," I said. I had, of course, heard nothing of the sort. I hoped, of course, if Octantius did not have the gold with him, that there would now be doubt, in the event of the death of Saphronicus, as to its eventual appearance. I hoped in this way to buy time. I did not think they would be likely to kill Ina, who was now a very lovely slave, for nothing. There are obviously much better things to do with beautiful slaves. Keep them, to serve perfectly, subject to the full rigors of the mastery.

  Octantius put back his head and laughed.

  "Saphronicus is dead!" I insisted, addressing this more to the other fellows about than Octantius.

  The men of Octantius, a rough crew on the whole, looked at one another uneasily. Too, as I have mentioned, there were now several others about also, a small crowd, and, as a matter of fact, now more than before. As fellows came in they naturally drifted to the circumference of the circle, and about it, to see what might be occurring.

  "Octantius?" asked one of his men, in the ring.

  "He is lying," said Octantius.

  The men looked at one another.

  "It is a game, a ruse, to buy time," said Octantius. "Can you not tell?"

  I saw, to my satisfaction, that the men were not completely convinced of this. News, on Gor, of course, does not travel in a uniform, reliable fashion. Too, given the distances and the modes of transportation, and occasionally the hardships and peril of travel, it does not always move quickly. Too, it can depend on things as simple as the luck of a messenger, and who speaks to whom. There were doubtless many cities on Gor which did not even know, as yet, of the fall of Ar's Station. Too, as one might expect, in such a milieu, rumors tend to be rampant. If it is often difficult even in a Ubar's court, perhaps because of the shadings and distortions of reports from subsidiary cities and towns, to ascertain exactly what happened, one may well imagine the problems encountered by the populace in general, in the markets, the baths and taverns.

  "Even if Saphronicus were dead, which he is not," said Octantius, angrily, "it does not matter."

  The men looked at one another.

  "The gold," said Octantius, angrily, lifting a pouch, on its string, from within his tunic, "is here!"

  "Aii!" cried more than one man, pleased.

  I had supposed that the gold would be with Octantius, as he had told me he would bring it with him, but I did not, of course, know that. A hundred pieces of gold, for example, is a great deal of money to be carrying about, particularly standardized tarn disks. Indeed, on Gor it is a fortune. It would not have been absurd if he had had with him not the gold, but only a note, to be drawn on one of the banks, like strongholds, on Brundisium's Street of Coins. Had that been the case I would have attempted to cast doubt on the value of the note. Many of the ruffians probably could not read. Too, they were the sort of men who would be inclined to distrust financial papers, such as letters of credit, drafts, checks, and such. Certainly such things were not like a coin in their fist or a woman in their arms.

  "Challenge me," I invited Octantius.

  He smiled.

  "If you want her," I called to him, "let us do the game of blades."

  He slipped the gold, on the strung pouch, the string about his neck, back in his tunic.

  "She is naught but a property," I said. "Let her disposition ride then upon the outcome of sword sport."

  "I think not," he said.

  "Fight!" I said.

  "Why should I fight?" he asked. "She is already, for most practical purposes, mine."

  "Fight!" I said.

  "For what purpose?" he asked. "What would I have to gain by fighting?"

  "Coward!" I said.

  "You do not know that," he said, "and, even if it were true, you could not know it."

  "Coward!" I said again, angrily.

  "I think I am brave enough, as men go," he said. "On the other hand, it is not my idea of bravery to leap off precipices or fling oneself into the jaws of larls."

  "You acknowledge your cowardice?" I said.

  "Your insults," he remarked, "are more germane to my intelligence than courage, that you should think to so simple-mindedly manipulate me."

  "Fight!" I said.

  "I gather that you have already put an end to some of my men," he said, "and among them two or three who were presumably my superior in swordsmanship."

  "If you do not fight," I said, "you will lose face before your men."

  "I am not their captain," he said. "I am their employer."

  "What is that which depresses no scale," I asked, "but is weightier than gold?"

  "I do not care for riddles," he said.

  "What of honor?" I asked.

  "An inconvenience," he said, "an impediment on the path to power."

  "You seem to me," I said, uncertainly, "one who might once have had honor."

  "I have outgrown it," he said.

  "The most dangerous lies," I said, "are those which we tell ourselves."

  "Once, I had honor," said he, "long ago, in a place faraway, but I sacrificed it for a woman, who then mocked it, and trod it underfoot."

  "What became of her?" I asked.

  "When last I saw her," he said, "she was naked and in chains, gripping a stirring paddle, slaving over a great tub of boiling water in a public laundry."

  "How came she there?" I asked.

  "I put her there," he said.

  "Recollect your honor," I said.

  "Tomorrow will be soon enough to do that," he said.

  There was laughter from the men ringing me.

  "Send these against me then," I said, indicating the ring with my sword, "one by one!"

  The fellows looked uneasily at one another.

  "Bowmen," said he, "lift your weapons."

  There were now two or three hundred men about. Many more had come in through the gate. The concourse was crowded, save for the open space in which I stood, Ina crouched behind me.

  "I wish you well, Ina," I said.

  "I wish you well, Master," she whispered.

  "Take aim," said Octantius.

  I was curious to know what it would be like to see the quarrels in flight toward my body. I wondered if I would be able to follow them in flight.

  "Fire!" said Octantius.

  I do not know if I closed my eyes inadvertently, or not. Ina had her head down.

  I had a sudden, odd feeling, as if I might be denying that I was struck.

  But then I saw the bowmen, ten or more of them, almost as though in a dream, turning and sprawling, sinking, stumbling, falling into the dust. I was vaguely aware of quarrels slashing into the dirt, streaking like plows in the dirt, throwing up a spume of dust like water, others darting wildly upward, some lost overhead, passing somewhere, some skittering about, turning head over heels, then some bounding twenty or more feet in the air, turning, disappearing, and I wondered if this was how one in our situation might refuse to accept reality, but then I saw more than one of the bowmen lying in the dirt, quarrels protruding from their own backs, others with blood about their necks, where the
ir throat had been cut. Ina was looking up, in consternation. I could not find metal in my own body. Then I realized it was not there. I could smell the smells of the camp. I could see the turbulence in the crowd, the movements of robes. Octantius had his hands raised. His men were being disarmed.

  "We are alive," I told Ina. "I am sure of it. We are alive!"

  But she had fallen into the dirt. I turned her over. She had not been hit. She had fainted.

  "You have led us a merry chase," cried Marcus, angrily, looking over his shoulder. "Why did you not stay in the camp? How were we supposed to know where to find you?" He was tearing open the tunic of Octantius, and then he jerked the gold, on its string, from Octantius' neck. "Here!" said Marcus, throwing the gold to a large fellow, his face muchly concealed in a wind scarf, with him. "Here is your gold!"

  "Marcus!" I cried.

  "You should have stayed in the camp!" said Marcus, angrily.

  "What have you done?" I asked.

  "I hired mercenaries," said he. "I went to the Jeweled Whip last night and made the arrangements. Things would have gone quite smoothly if you had stayed where you were supposed to be."

  "You had no gold to hire mercenaries," I said.

  "This fellow did," said Marcus, jerking a thumb back at Octantius who was still standing there, his hands over his head. "So I used his gold."

  "My friend," I said.

  "We might never have found you," said he, "had we not heard rumors of a berserk lunatic running about the slave camp killing innocent folk. Naturally I assumed it must be you."

  "Of course," I said.

  "So we hurried over here."

  "How many are there?" I asked.

  "A hundred, or better," said Marcus. "And I assure you these sleen do not come cheap."

  I observed Octantius and his men being tied. Also I noted that their purses were being emptied.

  "We will take these fellows a few pasangs from Brundisium," said the leader of the mercenaries, "strip them and set them loose."

  "My thanks," said I, and my thanks were heartfelt.

  "Do not thank them," said Marcus. "They are merely sleen for hire. It is all in the contract."

  "Do you know with whom you are dealing?" I asked Marcus.

  "He is dealing with Edgar, of Tarnwald," said the leader of the mercenaries.

  "Of course," I said.

  "The mercenary sleen does not come cheap," said Marcus. He had a regular's disdain for his mercenary counterpart. He had not yet learned to distinguish between mercenary and mercenary. That has been the downfall of several commanders of regular troops.

  "Why did you not let me know you were here?" I asked.

  "We were not here," said Marcus. "We just arrived."

  I swallowed, hard.

  "You should have stayed in our camp," said Marcus.

  "Apparently," I said.

  I went to Octantius who now had his hands tied behind his back. A rope was on his neck. He and his men were to be placed in throat coffle.

  "I take it," said Octantius, "that we are now to be taken out and killed."

  "You are a brave man," I said.

  "It is easy to be brave when one has no hope," he said.

  "I am sorry I spoke to you as I did earlier."

  "Your ruse was transparent," he said. "I took no offense."

  "You are not to be killed," I said. "You are to be taken away from here, and released."

  He looked at me, startled.

  "Tomorrow," I said, "recollect honor."

  He looked at me, and then he was thrust several yards toward the gate, to be held there as more of his men were being added to the coffle.

  The leader of the mercenaries hefted the bag of gold in his hand. He looked at Marcus. "You did not tell us that you did not have the gold when you hired us," he said.

  "I had prospects of obtaining it," said Marcus.

  "What if it had not been here?" asked the mercenary.

  "Then," said Marcus, "I would have sold my life dearly."

  "I see," said the mercenary.

  I was pleased to see that Marcus had formulated a plan for that contingency.

  "Well," said Marcus to the mercenary, "you have your gold. You may now be on your way."

  "Marcus," I whispered, "please."

  The mercenary then went to where Ina lay in the dirt, in the center of what had been the circle. She was still unconscious. "So this is the little traitress and slave," he said. He turned her to her belly with his foot. "Not bad," he said. He then, again with his foot, turned her to her back. "Good slave curves," he said.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Ar," I said.

  "It would be dangerous to take this slave there," he said.

  "I have no intention of taking her there," I smiled.

  "Has she been taught anything of the collar?" he asked.

  "A little," I said.

  "Such as she should learn quickly and well," he said.

  "I have every confidence that she will do so," I said.

  "She will, or die," he said.

  "Perhaps then," I said, "my camp, in an Ahn?"

  "I shall send Mincon," he said.

  "Good," I said.

  "You will have to buy her if you want her," said Marcus.

  "What a mercenary fellow," said the leader of the mercenaries. He then, with a laugh, tossed the bag of gold to Marcus.

  Marcus caught the gold against his chest, and clung to it, astonished.

  "I wish you well," said the mercenary captain to me.

  "I wish you well, too," I said.

  The mercenary captain then turned to Marcus. "I wish you well, too," said he, "my young friend."

  "I do not understand," said Marcus.

  "That is because you are not a mercenary," said the captain.

  "I do not understand," said Marcus.

  "We have already received our pay," he said.

  "But this is the gold," said Marcus.

  "Not all pay is gold," he said.

  "My thanks," I said to the mercenary.

  "It is nothing," he said.

  He turned to leave, but then turned back. "I heard a fellow in the crowd, a few moments ago, tell someone that you had said Saphronicus was dead."

  "Yes," I said.

  "How did you know that?" he asked.

  "I do not know it," I said. "I made it up, hoping to delay matters."

  "Interesting," he said.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "Because," he said, "Saphronicus is dead."

  "How would you know this?" I asked.

  "I have an agent," he said, "in the camp of Ar at Holmesk."

  "How did it happen?" I asked.

  "That seems obscure," he said. "There are many reports, which conflict with one another."

  He then turned and, with a swirl of his cloak, left the concourse.

  "I wish you well," called Marcus, after him, puzzled.

  "You are rich," I said to Marcus.

  "The dark-haired slave!" he cried. "I can afford her, she at the wagon!"

  He then, suddenly, turned about, and ran from the concourse.

  I then went and crouched beside Ina. I shook her, lightly.

  "Am I alive?" she asked.

  "It would seem so," I said.

  "Where have they gone?" she asked.

  "They have been taken away," I said.

  "But will they return?" she asked.

  "I do not think so," I said. "The gold is gone."

  "But there will be more?" she said.

  "I am not sure," I said. "I have heard that Saphronicus is dead."

  "Truly dead?" she said.

  "I think so," I said.

  "Then I am safe?" she asked.

  "I do not know," I said.

  "What is to be done with me?" she asked.

  "While you were unconscious," I said, "someone found your slave curves of interest."

  "My "slave curves"!" she said, in horror, putting
her knees together, and covering her breasts with her hands.

  "Yes," I said, "and open your knees, and put your hands down, on your thighs."

  She obeyed.

  "What now is to be done with me?" she asked.

  "Come with me," I said, going back into the camp.

  In a bit I knelt her before a horizontal bar, about a yard above the dirt, and tied her wrists to it.

  "Master?" she asked.

  "You were disobedient," I said.

  "Master?" she asked.

  "Earlier this morning," I said, "when I warned you to stay close to me, near the fence of the sunken sales pit, you fled from my side."

  "Master!" she cried.

  "Yes?" said an attendant, coming up to us.

  "Bring me a slave whip," I said.

  49

  The Slave Girl

  "I now know what it is to be whipped," she said, "and I will obey."

  "Good," I said.

  "I will be zealous to obey, I will be desperate to please!" she said.

  "Your brand is pretty," I observed.

  "I yield, I yield!" she whispered, clutching me.

  "Apparently," I said.

  "I can no longer live without this!" she said. "I need this, I need this!"

  "They will soon be coming for you," I said.

  "Hold me!" she begged. "Hold me!"

  It was the afternoon of the same day we had visited the slave camp. We were now in our own camp, among the other small camps nearby. Marcus was not in the camp, as he had hastened to the vicinity of the Cosian camp, to deal with the sutler, Ephialtes, for the slim, dark-haired beauty I had arranged, somewhat maliciously, to be sure, to be presented before him.

  "Do it more, please!" wept Ina.

  "You squirm and thrash as a slave," I informed her.

  "I am a slave!" she gasped.

  "Are you shameless?" I asked.

  "Yes, yes!" she gasped. "I am nothing, worthless, only a slave! I must be shameless! No longer am I permitted to claim, profess, and attempt to retain, false dignities! That is for free women! No longer am I a free woman! That is behind me! It is gone, gone! I am now a slave! I am shameless! Yes, shameless, shameless! I am now gloriously, joyously, ecstatically shameless! I want this! I love it! I may not resist! This is perfect for me! I am nothing! I am in a collar! I am a slave, a slave!"

  How beautiful are women at such times. Is it any wonder that men are fond of them, and keep them as slaves?