by John Norman
“Yes, Lady,” I said.
“You seem surprised to see me,” she said.
“Yes, Lady,” I said.
“I am but recently returned to the palace,” she said, “after recovering from an ordeal, for I am delicate, indeed, only yesterday, drawn by successions of runners, in a two-wheeled hand wagon.”
“It was said,” I said, “that you were taken from the palace, and that, days ago.”
“It is true,” she said. “There was an incident. It need not be discussed.”
“How could you be taken from the palace?” I asked.
“It need not be discussed,” she said.
“It is rumored,” I said, “that you were rendered helpless, and silent, and concealed in a blanket.”
“It need not be discussed,” she said.
“Much as might have been any woman,” I said.
“I am returned,” she said.
“It is conjectured,” I said, “that you were bound and gagged, that you were utterly helpless, even as might have been a trussed slave.”
“I am Sumomo,” she said, “daughter of Lord Yamada, Shogun of the Islands.”
“You were sent to me by your father,” I said.
“Yes,” she said.
“That you should speak to me?”
“Yes,” she said. “I see that you are apprehensive.”
“I had two men,” I said, “both of value to me, both friends. Are they alive? Are they captives?”
“I shall speak to you of what occurred,” she said.
“Are they alive?” I said.
“There were two men,” she said, “both known to you, the loathsome Tajima, whom I despise, and a large, barbarian fool, named Pertinax. There was also a slave, with the barbarian name, Jane. I was carried through the darkness, past sentry posts, in the arms of the contemptible Tajima. The slave struggled to match the pace of the men.”
Hearing this, I feared, the rendezvous with Ichiro would not be met. Ichiro had his instructions to return to the northern encampment if the rendezvous had not been kept by midnight, the Twentieth Ahn. Too, it did not seem that Tajima, no matter his will or fortitude, his agility and supple strength, could meet the rendezvous on time, bearing Sumomo, despite her lightness and small frame.
“You were carried on the left shoulder of Tajima,” I said, “your head to the rear?”
“Certainly not,” she said. “I am a free woman.”
A slave is often carried in that way, over the shoulder, facing backward, that she may know herself goods, a property, as much so as a crate of larmas, a bundle of tur-pah, a bag of suls. Too, in this way, she does not know to what, or where, she is being carried. Why should she know? She is a slave.
“After a time,” she said, “after the guard posts, the blanket was removed, and my ankles were untied; yes, they had been tied; and I was informed that I should accompany my captors on foot. The slave, I think, rejoiced to have this moment to rest. Naturally I refused, by gestures, and shaking my head, to do so. It was clear to me that a meeting must be at issue, and that time might be short. I could thus foil my captors, and trust that we might fall in with one of my father’s patrols.”
“You are clever,” I said.
“Extremely so,” she said. “The barbarian oaf, he called Pertinax, upon my refusal, suggested that I might be beaten into submission.”
“Were you?” I asked.
“Certainly not,” she said. “I am a free woman.”
“You were then carried, again?” I said.
“Two ropes were put on my neck,” she said, “one before and one behind. The draw of the lead rope was at the back of my neck, and that of the back rope, if it were tightened, would be at my throat.”
“Slaves are trained,” I said, “to follow docilely on their leashes, as beautiful beasts, the draw, if necessary, always at the back of the neck, to avoid injury.”
“I would be drawn forward by the lead tether,” she said, “and should I try to hold back, it would draw forward, and the rear draw, then, at my throat, would draw back. This would be quite disagreeable, and so, to relieve any possible unpleasantness, I hurried forward. Too, I realized that I would be well advised to cooperate with my captors, for my life was in their hands.”
“Escape was imperative,” I said, “and the men impatient, and desperate.” All pressure, of course, is to be at the back of the neck, and that applied with discretion.
“Were I a slave,” she said, “I suppose I might have simply been whipped into a sobbing, eager obedience.”
“But you were a free woman,” I said.
“Certainly,” she said. “In any event, I am not stupid, and, given the situation, I hurried on, now obedient to my leash.”
“As might a slave,” I said.
“Perhaps,” she said. “But soon,” she said, “by pathetic whimpers, and tiny movements of my body, which men cannot withstand, I made known that I now acknowledged myself a helpless woman in their grasp, admitting myself their helpless prisoner, and that I desired to speak.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Men are stupid,” she said. “Such wiles were sufficient, though Pertinax was not pleased. My gag was removed, and my hands were unbound from behind my back. I lowered my head, and promised dutiful compliance. The leash, too, was removed.”
“You would be silent,” I said. “You would do nothing to betray their trust. You would not attempt to escape?”
“I promised all that,” she said, “and most earnestly.”
“You need not have done so,” I said. “But if you promised, it is incumbent upon you to keep your promise.”
“Do not be absurd,” she said.
“I see,” I said.
“Men are stupid,” she said.
“What then?” I asked.
It alarmed me that Sumomo was here, in the garden. But it seemed she would not speak, except in her own way, at her own pace. I suspect she was enjoying this unraveling of her account.
“We then continued on our way,” she said, “I between the two men, and the slave following, behind and on the left.”
“That is the common heeling position for a slave,” I said.
“But I walked proudly between my captors,” she said.
“Certainly,” I said. “You were a free woman.”
“The contemptible Tajima,” she said, “kept looking at the yellow moon.”
“He was judging the night sky,” I said, “trying to ascertain the Twentieth Ahn.”
“Shortly thereafter he said, ‘We are too late!’”
“‘Surely not!’ said Pertinax.”
“‘See the moon!’ he said.”
“‘Let us hurry on,’ said Pertinax.”
“‘The bannerman knows his orders,’ said the loathsome Tajima. ‘He has departed.’”
“‘Perhaps not,’ said Pertinax.”
“‘He is bannerman,’ said the loathsome Tajima. It seems the barbarian oaf, Pertinax, was unfamiliar with the discipline of our people.”
“Discipline,” I said, “is to be used with an end in view. It is not its own end.”
“‘It will be difficult to reach the country of Temmu,’ said the witless boor, Tajima. ‘It will take days. The patrols of Yamada abound.’ I was pleased to hear this intelligence spoken. I was sure I would be soon returned to the safety of the palace. It was only necessary to continue to feign obedience and docility.”
I had feared the rendezvous might not be met. The supper had lasted somewhat longer than anticipated. Still there would have been time. Then there had been the incidents of the reader, Tatsu, and the subsequent attack of the presumed assassin, whose charge of death had been disrupted in its progress by Pertinax. Still the projected schedule might have been satisfied, save for Tajima’s concern to protect Sumomo from a fate of which she had no inkling, a concern apparently agreeable to, and accepted by, Pertinax. I admired the latter, that he would abet his fellow, at much personal hazard, in that desper
ate venture. Such delays took time, and, too, more time would have been used in the journey than had been originally anticipated, even beyond the margin of delay allowed for in the original plan, given the unanticipated presence of two women, one of whom, I gathered, had been carried for some time.
“Some twenty Ehn later,” said Sumomo, “their fears of the departure of their fellow, to my relief, were confirmed, for the point of rendezvous had apparently been reached, a sheltered glade more than a hundred paces from the road. In the light of the moons, one could see the disturbance of the ground, where the talons of uneasy tarns had torn at the grass.”
“‘Ho, there!’ cried a voice. ‘Is there anyone there? Speak the signs, or die!’ My heart leapt. This could be only a patrol of my father! The men crouched down, to one side, in the shrubbery, I dragged down with them. ‘You will be silent,’ said my detestable captor, the abominable Tajima. ‘I have your word on this.’ ‘Of course, Tajima san,’ I said, as though I might be according him some regard, awaiting my chance to cry out, but then a large hand was on the back of my neck, holding me, and I felt the blade of a knife on my throat. I was in the power of my captor’s fellow, the oaf, Pertinax. ‘That is not necessary,’ said the despicable Tajima. ‘You may be wrong,’ said the oaf, Pertinax. I decided it would not be an opportune time to cry out. We listened to the patrol, passing within yards of us. Tears sprang to my eyes, but the knife was at my throat. I could feel its edge. It was a guard patrol, as we were within my father’s domain. Too, someone had called for the speaking of a sign. Such patrols commonly consist of ten or twelve men, and an officer. The reconnaissance patrols, which may intrude into disputed territory, or enemy territory, commonly consist of two or three men, and an officer.”
I nodded. It is easier, obviously, to conceal the movements of a smaller number of men, each trained in stealth.
“My heart sank,” said she, “for the patrol had passed. The fools! I might be lost, or held for ransom. I dared not contemplate that I might be consigned to an even more shameful fate.”
“You might be quite fetching,” I said, “collared.”
“Beast!” she said.
“Continue, Lady,” I said.
“‘It is well past the Twentieth Ahn,’ said bold, vile Tajima. ‘We will leave the road and move north, while the night lasts. Then we must rest and conceal ourselves, until the darkness returns, and our journey may be resumed.’ ‘You will never see your base again,’ I informed them.”
“‘Let us gag, strip, and bind her,’ said the uncouth barbarian, Pertinax.”
“I feared they might do this, for I was in their power. ‘No,’ said my captor. ‘This is a free woman.’ I straightened my body, proudly, and cast a look of seething contempt on the barbarian, but quickly turned away, and looked elsewhere, for I was suddenly afraid to meet his eyes. He was not looking upon me as though I was a free woman, but, I feared, as less.”
“As a contract woman,” I said.
“I feared,” she said, “as less, as worlds less.”
“As,” I suggested, “one in whom one might see the most fascinating and desirable of female beasts, the female slave.”
“‘Lo!’ cried the barbarian, Pertinax, pointing to the sky. We looked upward and, against the yellow moon, were seen three tarns, a lead tarn with mounted tarnsman, and two other tarns, riderless, but each on a long, looping lead. ‘It is Ichiro!’ said the barbarian.”
“‘We shall break him in rank, remove from him the honor of the banner,’ exclaimed my captor. ‘It was his to return to the encampment!’”
“‘We are safe!’ cried the barbarian. ‘Let him have recourse to the ritual knife!’ cried my captor. ‘I propose a commendation,’ said the barbarian. ‘The ritual knife!’ insisted my captor. ‘Let us first return to the camp,’ said the barbarian. ‘But then the ritual knife would be inappropriate,’ said my captor. ‘It is hard to have everything, friend Tajima,’ said the barbarian. I turned to hasten away, into the darkness, but the hand of the barbarian closed, like iron, on my upper right arm. I was held in place. In moments the tarns had alit not yards from us, and almost on the site of the rendezvous. ‘Tal!’ called the new arrival. ‘Shameful!’ cried my captor. ‘Your orders!’ ‘Tal!’ said the barbarian, cheerily. The slave, too, I think, was delighted. ‘Your orders,’ said my captor, ‘were to wait until the Twentieth Ahn, and then depart, and return to the encampment!’ ‘Are you not pleased to see me?’ asked the newcomer. ‘We are!’ asserted the barbarian. ‘Noble Tajima, tarnsman san,’ said the newcomer, ‘do not be distressed. I obeyed my orders, and with perfection. I waited until the Twentieth Ahn and departed, but the orders did not specify that I might not return by my own route, which might be circular, nor did they tell me how quickly I was to return to our encampment, only that I was to return.’ ‘Mere caviling,’ said Tajima. ‘But surely well caviled, noble leader,’ said Ichiro. ‘Yes, excellently so,’ the barbarian bespoke himself, though his comment was not solicited. ‘Perhaps then,’ said my captor, ‘recourse to the ritual knife is not required.’ ‘I do not think so,’ said the newcomer. ‘Certainly not,’ said the barbarian. ‘Perhaps the orders were insufficiently clear,’ said my captor. ‘They were obviously obscure, egregiously so,’ said the barbarian. ‘Welcome then, and well met, friend Ichiro, honored bannerman of the cavalry,’ said reprehensible Tajima. I suspected he was well enough pleased, if reluctant to be so.”
“I think you are right,” I said. I did not claim to find the Pani inscrutable, but it was difficult to deny that they were occasionally puzzling. The matter was doubtless cultural.
“‘There is at least one patrol in the vicinity,’ said he called Ichiro. ‘I noted it on my approach.’ ‘One passed but recently,’ said the barbarian. I shuddered, recalling the edge of the knife on my throat. ‘Patrols may have seen you against the moon, as easily as did we,’ said the barbarian. ‘Let us mount,’ said my hated captor. Already the barbarian was in the saddle, the lead on his tarn cut, freeing it for independent flight. To my uneasiness I observed the disposition of the slave. She lay before him, arched over the saddle apron on her back, bound, his. Her crossed ankles had been fastened to a ring to his right, and her crossed wrists to a ring to his left. She lifted her head to him, and he bent down, and, forcing her head back against the saddle apron, crushed her lips beneath his, with the master’s kiss, that possessive kiss, wholly at his will, subjected to which the slave well understands his will is all, and she is owned. But, incredibly, she writhed on the leather, responsive, squirming, trying to lift her begging body to his touch. But he then straightened up, ignoring her, addressing himself to the reins. She whimpered, but dared not speak. ‘Hurry,’ urged he called Ichiro. I looked with dismay on the bound slave, stretched over the saddle apron, before the warrior. ‘Do not fear, noble lady,’ said my captor, sensing my uneasiness. ‘You will be carried before me, in honor, in dignity, well secured with the safety strap, sheltered in the folds of the blanket.’ ‘Free me,’ I said. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I will bring a great ransom,’ I said. ‘I do not doubt but what your father would pay to have you back,’ he said. I did not understand the tone in which he said this. Of course my father would be delighted at my return. I noted that my captor’s fellow, asaddle, had already buckled his safety strap about his waist. Thus he could not immediately free himself. I most feared him, for he was a barbarian, untutored and unrefined, rude, uncouth, impatient, violent. I recalled his knife at my throat. ‘Remain here,’ said the hated Tajima, and he went to sever the lead on the tarn he would mount. All three tarns would now be free to fly separately, obedient to their rider. He then went to the side, to retrieve the second blanket, for my warmth. I backed away. I must run! Then, to my joy, I heard, from the direction of the road, the sounds of men. It was a patrol, perhaps the same which had been so close, that from which we had concealed ourselves. But now it bore two lanterns. I feared it would pass, without realizing our presence! I turned about and ran screaming toward the la
nterns. ‘Help!’ I cried. ‘Help! The foe is at hand! Enemies are here! Hurry! Hurry! Seize them! They have tarns! Do not let them escape!’ We then heard ‘Ho!,’ an answering cry, and another, ‘Stop! Stand as you are!’ We heard, as well, rushing toward us, the shuffle of feet, a movement through brush, the sound of accouterments. Men rushed past me. ‘I am Sumomo, daughter of the shogun!’ I cried. ‘Seize them!’ I cried. ‘Let not one escape!’ I heard the clash of weapons, in the darkness. I heard a cry of pain, the snap of mighty wings, and dust carried even to where I stood, wavering, looking backward. One tarn was aflight, and then a second, and I heard the cry ‘One-strap,’ and saw a figure dangling from a saddle ring, clinging to it, the third tarn, as that bird, too, now amidst a casting of glaives and a flight of arrows, rose into the sky. I fear I lost consciousness. Later, my identity recognized, a hand cart was arranged for my eventual return to the palace, following my recovery from this dreadful ordeal, with a double escort, two patrols.”
“I gather,” I said, “that the three, Ichiro, Tajima, and Pertinax, escaped.” Certainly I had waited long enough for this intelligence, which I supposed Sumomo had relished withholding from me, until the last moment.
“Unfortunately,” said Sumomo. “One may, of course, hope that they were grievously wounded.”
“I suspect,” I said, “your father is not altogether displeased at this outcome. He has designs upon the tarn cavalry which might be imperiled, should such as Tajima and Pertinax be slain, or wounded. You may recall he honored them, and bestowed upon them golden chains.”
“But I was abducted,” she said, “his daughter!”
“He has many daughters,” I said.
“Beast!” she said.
“It seems,” I said, “you were sent here, to the garden, to assure me of the wellbeing of my friends.”
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
“You might have done so immediately,” I said.
“I did not choose to do so,” she said.
“You needed not have given your word to your captors,” I said, “that word with respect to silence, obedience, and such.”
