by John Norman
Arashi glared angrily at the floor.
“Bind him,” said Yasushi, to the three Ashigaru, the foragers, “two leashes, and the other will herd him with a glaive.”
“Yes, noble one,” said the leader of the foragers.
“I suggest it is time to leave the inn,” I said.
Yasushi handed his field sword to Tajima, and regained his own weapon.
“It is ill-balanced,” said Arashi.
“Not for the hand for which it was formed,” said Yasushi.
Both warriors then, Yasushi and young Tajima, were soon armed with their own weaponry.
I threw down the bars with which Arashi had secured the door. I feared the ceiling, the floor of the loft, would soon crash down, with a blanket of showering, burning planks.
Smoke permeated the room.
The wall of the eating hall, to the left as one would enter, was aflame.
The main entrance to the inn had then been flung open.
Arashi, his upper body swathed with rope, two rope leashes on his neck, each in the keeping of an Ashigaru, stood framed in the doorway.
He was thrust forward, into the courtyard.
Then behind him, his shirt torn, a sword in each hand, stood Yasushi. “I am Yasushi,” he announced, “a march constable of Lord Yamada. This man is Arashi, the bandit. He is my prisoner.”
I saw no one outside, but I knew they were there.
No sooner had Yasushi, Tajima, Haruki, and myself exited the inn than the ceiling collapsed.
We looked about.
“Where are they?” I asked.
“About,” said Yasushi.
“Master!” cried Nezumi, who was the last on a rope coffle, a neck coffle, its free end tied to the back of the laden rice cart. The girls’ hands were tied behind their back. The inn girls wore inn tunics, sleeveless and revealing, and Nezumi less, the tunic of a field slave. On continental Gor, girls are often coffled naked, which protects tunics against the dust of the trail, and such, and are usually chain-coffled, rather than rope-coffled. The chain affords superior security. It is harder to make off with a chained slave than a roped slave. Too, it is thought that a chain has an excellent effect on a woman. A woman on a chain is in little doubt that she is a slave. “Oh, Master!” cried Nezumi, joyously. “You are alive, Master!”
Tajima strode to her, angrily. “On your knees,” he said. “Head down!” “Yes, Master!” she said. The other girls, alarmed, swiftly assumed this position, as well, one quite meaningful to a woman, a position suitable for a woman, a position of slave submission. “Were you given permission to speak?” asked Tajima. “Forgive me, Master,” she said.
“I see no one,” I said.
“They do not wish to be seen,” said Yasushi.
“Perhaps arrows are trained upon us now,” I said.
“I would suppose so,” said Yasushi.
Tajima then approached Yasushi.
“You are a master swordsman,” said Tajima, humbly, bowing to Yasushi, who returned this courtesy. Tajima, of course, had bowed first, and more deeply. “It is rare to see such skill,” said Tajima. “You are a master.”
“Long ago,” said Yasushi, “on the palace grounds of Lord Yamada, Shogun of the Islands, I profited from the instruction of an itinerant master.”
“May I ask, noble one,” inquired Tajima, “his name?”
“You may,” said Yasushi. “His name was Nodachi.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
We Will Depart from the Vicinity of the Inn
“There,” said Haruki.
Several yards away, rising from the grass, was a tall figure, clearly a man of two swords.
Almost at the same time several other figures emerged, as well, some with bows. And four others appeared, too, two from behind each side of the collapsed, burning inn, and one of each of these two held a bow.
“Warriors, all,” said Haruki, marveling.
“Strange,” I said. Usually Ashigaru would be more in evidence.
“How many?” I asked Haruki.
“I see twenty, with a high officer,” said Haruki.
“I, too,” I said.
“Tal,” said Yasushi, bowing.
“I am Kazumitsu,” said he who seemed most prominent amongst the now visible participants in this recently concluded, small siege, “special officer to Lord Yamada, Shogun of the Islands.” He who had identified himself as Kazumitsu was a tall, angular man, with a lean face. His hair, as with many of the warriors, was bound in a knot at the back of his head.
“You have done well,” said Yasushi. “You have engaged the band of my prisoner, Arashi, the bandit. I suspect few escaped.”
“None escaped,” said the angular man.
“Excellent,” said Yasushi.
“I do not understand,” I said to Haruki. “I do not see why twenty warriors would pursue Arashi, and his band, with not even one Ashigaru.”
“It does not bode well, noble one,” said Haruki.
“Many have sought Arashi, and failed to find him,” said Yasushi. “Rather it is he who finds others. He moves unseen, like the wind, he strikes like lightning, and vanishes as swiftly. How did you mark his path, how did you locate him? Many, for months, have failed? How is it that you, of all, found him?”
“We did not find him,” said Kazumitsu.
“I feared as much,” said Haruki.
“I do not understand, Kazumitsu san,” said Yasushi.
“Arashi was a mere impediment,” said Kazumitsu, “an obstacle, to be cleared away.”
“I am uneasy,” I said.
“Consider warriors,” said Haruki, “twenty, consider the absence of Ashigaru, consider one who leads, a special officer to the shogun.”
“A formidable force,” I said, “to pursue a small outlaw band, a band easy to conceal, and accustomed to move with stealth.”
“Yes, noble one,” said Haruki.
I recalled the village where we had worked, and where Nezumi had been sent to the wading fields. We had feared that, in that village, we might have provoked suspicion. Haruki had informed us of two men who had slipped from the village. It was the village from which we had stolen away, using Haruki’s makeshift ladder, high enough to clear the palisade.
“This party then,” I said, “was not searching for bandits.”
“I fear not,” said Haruki.
“I fear its nature,” I said.
“It is clearly an unusual party, a special party,” said Haruki.
“A pursuit party?” I said.
“I fear so,” said Haruki.
“And we,” I said, “are the object of its pursuit?”
“I fear so,” said Haruki.
“There was no sign we were pursued,” I said.
“Sometimes,” said Haruki, “there is no sign.”
I noted now that several of the warriors had gathered about us.
“We must to the North Road,” said Yasushi. “There is rice to deliver to the rice wagons.”
Kazumitsu went to within a few feet of the burning inn, and, for several Ihn, sometimes moving about, looked into the raging debris.
“The rice should be delivered,” said Yasushi.
Kazumitsu turned back to our party.
“The rice,” said Yasushi.
“There is no hurry,” said Kazumitsu. “We will wait until the fire subsides. We will then seek amongst the ashes.”
“Why?” asked Yasushi.
“There are bodies there,” he said. “We will gather heads.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Yasushi and Kazumitsu Hold Converse;
This Occurs in the Vicinity of a Prison Pen
“I fear these are not those whom you seek,” said Yasushi, addressing himself to a taciturn, attentive Kazumitsu, outside the vertical wooden bars, the palings, of the prisoner pen in which we were incarcerated, a temporary pen in the road camp of Lord Yamada’s march. “As I understand it you were instructed to apprehend for inquiry a party of four wh
o visited, some days ago, Lord Yamada’s village of the Two Veminiums.”
“There were four apprehended,” said Kazumitsu.
“But these two,” said Yasushi, indicating Haruki and myself, “are not with the other two. They dined separately.”
“It is easy to dine separately,” said Kazumitsu.
“Trails may be confused,” said Yasushi.
“Two matters are involved,” said Kazumitsu. “The rider of a demon bird has visited a hundred villages, alerting them to watch for a tarnsman and Sumomo, the stolen daughter of the shogun.”
“It is thought,” said Yasushi, “that the bold tarnsman and his fair captive, Sumomo, outdistanced their pursuit and that she is now a prisoner in the holding of Temmu, the Wicked, or somewhere in a nest of demon birds.”
“No,” said Kazumitsu. “The pursuit was being successfully effected. The pursuers were closing. Then the gap enlarged, and the pursuit proved fruitless. From this it is conjectured that the pursued tarn was no longer burdened, while those of the pursuers were.”
“I see,” said Yasushi, satisfied.
“Thus,” said Kazumitsu, “the alerting of the villages.”
“It is speculated the mysterious tarnsman and his prize are afoot?”
“Yes,” said Kazumitsu, “and doubtless attempting to reach the holding of Temmu, or the camp of the demon birds.”
“Doubtless,” said Yasushi.
“And amongst the four,” said Kazumitsu, “are a warrior and a woman.”
“The warrior,” said Yasushi, “who is named Tajima, is ronin, and seeks to serve the shogun. He does not flee the shogun but has come far to serve him. You intercepted him on his way to the dais. The woman, whom I gather you have inspected, is scarcely a shogun’s daughter. Such a thought is absurd. Look well upon her. She is a lowly, cropped-hair, collared field slave.”
“Any woman may be collared, and have her hair cropped,” said Kazumitsu.
“Who would dare inflict on a shogun’s daughter the degrading yoke of bondage?” asked Yasushi.
“What of the other two?” said Kazumitsu. “All were in the inn.”
“A coincidence,” said Yasushi.
“It may not have been a coincidence,” said Kazumitsu.
“Perhaps not,” said Yasushi. “They may have met on the trail.”
“They may well be the four reported in the village of the Two Veminiums,” said Kazumitsu.
“It is possible, if not likely,” said Yasushi. “Consider the separation in the inn. But even if it is so, that these are the four you sought, of what interest or importance would they be, for anyone, a free warrior, zealous for a shogun’s rice; a field slave; a foreigner, probably a deserter from the camp of Temmu; and a peasant?”
“Why does Yasushi, a march constable, concern himself in these matters?” asked Kazumitsu.
“In an inn,” said Yasushi, “we shared danger, and war.”
“Ah,” said Kazumitsu.
“Too,” said Yasushi. “I fear for you.”
“I do not understand,” said Kazumitsu.
“You are, as I have it,” said Yasushi, “a special officer, and, it seems, your special office, presumably shared with others, is to locate and apprehend an unknown tarnsman and a high lady, Sumomo, the daughter of Lord Yamada.”
“That is true, noble constable,” said Kazumitsu.
“Thus I am concerned for you,” said Yasushi. “The shogun is not a patient man. If you present this motley four before him, hazarding the claim that this ronin warrior, who wishes only to see him, is a tarnsman, indeed, the one who abducted his daughter, and that a field slave is his daughter, I fear for your head.”
“I see,” said Kazumitsu.
“Surely these words will be difficult to dislodge from your mind,” said Yasushi.
“What am I to do?” asked Kazumitsu.
“At the moment, nothing,” said Yasushi. “Your prisoners are all in custody. There is nothing to fear on that score. In the morning, as a march constable, I shall petition an audience with the camp lord, second under the shogun himself. He will be familiar with Sumomo. He need only look at the field slave, and see that she is not Sumomo. You may then see to the release of the prisoners, and let the warrior enlist his weaponry in the service of the shogun, and later marshal your men and resume your search.”
“And what if the field slave is Sumomo?” asked Kazumitsu.
“You cannot be serious,” said Yasushi.
“What if it is Sumomo?”
“Then,” said Yasushi, “you will report to the shogun, your office well discharged, and accept his gratitude.”
“Then,” said Kazumitsu, “until morning.”
He then left the vicinity of the thick, heavy bars, the palings.
“Have no fear, my friends,” said Yasushi. “You will be free by noon tomorrow.”
I pressed myself against the opening between two of those stout, vertical bars.
“Noble one,” I said.
“Yes?” said Yasushi.
“Perhaps the camp lord has never seen the gracious daughter of the great shogun.”
“Have no fear,” said Yasushi. “He is an intimate of the shogun himself, and a daimyo who has been in frequent attendance in the palace. He will be quite familiar with Sumomo. Do not be concerned. He will see immediately that the field slave is not Sumomo.”
“Good,” I said.
“Then you will all be free,” said Yasushi.
“Excellent,” I said. “Who is the camp lord?”
“You would not know him,” said Yasushi. “He is an exalted personage, a most high and favored daimyo, Lord Akio.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
In the Prison Pen
“We are lost!” said Tajima, sitting, cross-legged, with us, on the dirt, inside the prison pen. “Lord Akio knows me, from the day of the supper with Lord Yamada, and will certainly recognize Sumomo. He will thus know me for the abducting tarnsman and will publicly announce her identity, and then I shall be put to death, doubtless without great haste, and Nezumi will be returned to Lord Yamada, to endure some fearful fate, perhaps the eels once more, though now, presumably, fed to them as a stripped, blindfolded slave.”
Nezumi was not with us in the prison pen.
One would not put an attractive slave, even a cropped-hair field slave in a pen with more than fifty virile males, unless as a punishment. Sometimes a free woman, from a conquered, hated city, is cast naked into a cage or pen of male slaves. Later, when the slaves are whipped back, and she is drawn forth, shaken and shuddering, she is fit for the collar.
We did not know Nezumi’s location.
“For me,” said Haruki, “I, as I, too, will be known, and the matter of the message vulos will be recalled, will perish unpleasantly. I would not expect to be twice rescued from the straw jacket.”
“You, Tarl Cabot, Tarnsman, may be spared,” said Tajima.
“I would not think so,” I said. “My value to Lord Yamada seems considerably decreased. He is marching on the holding of Temmu. Thus, for some reason, which I do not understand, it seems he is prepared to discount the danger of the tarn cavalry. That I should be in his power is apparently no longer important to him. Too, the freeing of the fellows by the road, in the business of the straw jackets, I suspect, will be laid to my account, and regarded as confirmed by my flight. Clearly I have not conducted myself as his ally, or possible ally.”
“There is, too, I fear,” said Tajima, “another consideration.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“Our friend Yasushi,” he said, “in his attempt to protect us, all of us, made much of the possibility that we were not connected, that we might not be the four sought, or such, or, if the four, that there was nothing of importance in our association, which might have been merely casual.”
“Yes?” I said.
“Accordingly,” said Tajima, “Lord Akio, who will doubtless surmise your likely identities, and may easily inquire into the matt
er, if in doubt, need not report your presence to Lord Yamada. In guileful innocence, as though accepting the speculation of the noble Yasushi, he may give no account of you. This will free him to deal with you independently, with impunity, as he may wish.”
“I do not think,” said Haruki, “the noble lord is overfond of a gardener, one who frequents a cot of message vulos.”
“Nor,” I said, “of a barbarian tarnsman, who has taken to the saddle on behalf of Lord Temmu.”
“I think he fears you,” said Haruki.
“That does not improve the situation,” I said.
“Not at all,” said Tajima.
When we had come to the march camp of Yamada, it had been something of a procession. I think both our captor, the officer Kazumitsu, and the march constable, the honorable Yasushi, with his captive, Arashi, the bandit chieftain, did not deign to seek some modest or secret entry into the camp, but, rather, entered in such a way as to proclaim their satisfaction with their day’s work. The camp must have been some two or three pasangs in diameter. The circle is the geometrical form containing the most area for its perimeter. On continental Gor temporary camps are usually laid out in squares, moated and palisaded if possible, with blockhouses at the corners and two gates, and a reticulation of straight streets, in terms of which the units are ordered. As nearly as I could determine the Yamada camp was divided into several flaring areas, rather as a series of spokes in a wheel might divide intervening surfaces. There were ten or more, I was told more, as apparently some previously unallied daimyos seem to have declared for Yamada, with their officers and men, and supplementary personnel. The tent of each daimyo lay near what would be the center of the wheel, the hub of which was occupied by the command tent of the shogun himself. His own forces, which were considerable, occupied two or three of what we have spoken of as “intervening surfaces.” Interestingly enough, although I supposed scouts, outrunners, guards, and such must have been about, the camp itself was not fortified, even by a deep ditch, the dirt from which would have been piled high behind the ditch, to form a wall. I did not know if this apparent lack of care was a function of the distance from the lands of Temmu, a sense of the weakness of the forces of Temmu, or was merely to be attributed to the arrogance of a mighty shogun. After all, the fearsome larl does not build ramparts behind which to tremble, fearing the depredations of urts. This arrangement did present, of course, a relatively porous perimeter which, by individuals, or small groups, might be penetrated with relative ease. Indeed, at certain points, there seemed to be a traffic of sorts from outside the camp into the camp, and from within the camp to the outside, this seeming to consist mostly of local peasants vending millet or vulos, herdsmen with a verr or a tarsk or two, some sellers of salted fish, for the sea was not far away, peddlers with their carts, various sorts of craftsmen, and such. Occasionally the master of a merchant wagon would trundle in, with a trove of silk, and clothing, sometimes a fine sword. Occasionally a peasant would appear with a daughter to rent or sell.
