On the Planet of Robot Slaves

by Harry Harrison

  They all clapped loudly at this, not knowing why except it seemed to be a big point to Merlin. Then they quickly knocked back some wine as he went on.

  "Mars, god of war. Certainly of great importance to this warlike tribe. My spies were too chicken to penetrate deeper into the country, to follow the Centurions when they made their secret way past the mountains. But I followed them there myself, for there are no secrets that can be hidden from Merlin! Disguised as an old man with a white beard I tottered after them until I discovered it, past the furthermost hill, at the cliff's edge where the plateau ends — there I found it!"

  "The best part comes next," King Arthur said, eyes glowing, fingers clutching the pommel of his sword in anticipation.

  "Do you know what it was? I will tell you. It was the Temple of Mars! Carved into solid rock, with marble columns, figured lintel and an altar set before it upon which the sacrifices and offerings were placed. And the officers themselves carried the offerings, not a legionary in sight, which will give you some idea how secret and important all this is. When they had made the sacrifices they fell back, almost with fear — and lo! they had damned good reason!

  "Night fell, although it was still day. Thunder rumbled and lightning crashed. Then a mysterious glow filled the air and it could be seen that the offerings were gone. And then, in a very impressive encore, Mars himself spoke. And that raised the hairs on the neck and emptied the bladder let me assure you. Nor was Mars content with a couple of prophecies or a weather report. That celestial sod ordered them to start the war again! That's where the trouble is coming from. Those lazy legionnaires and corpulent centurions are more than happy to sit around throwing slaves to the lions and getting smashed on cheap plonk. But, oh no, that's not good enough for Mars. Get the war moving he says, build ballistae, step up the draft, invade..."

  Merlin was so carried away that he began to froth and vibrate. Meta sprang to his aid and, with Bill's help, settled him in his chair again and poured a beaker of mead into his mouth. Arthur nodded with grim understanding.

  "There you have it within ye nutshell. We must do battle with the pagan gods if we are to free ourselves from this endless war."

  "Not a bad idea," Praktis nodded. "And you have just the troops to do it. Armored cavalry, sudden attack, outflank the armies. Bam — the job is done."

  "Would it were but so, puissant Admiral. But, verily, 'tis not. My strong and fearless knights quail before the gods and seek shelter beneath their beds."

  Merlin had recovered and nodded his head furiously. "Superstitious saps, that's what they are. Full of noble words — Verily wouldst I lay down my life for mine liege lord! Verily my flabby buttocks! One lightning bolt from the temple and they would run a furlong. There is no help there. Craven and shivering — despite the fact that I offered them complete religious protection as well!"

  Merlin seized up a leather bag and dumped its contents out onto the round table. "Look at this! Garlic by the ton. More crosses than you could find in a dozen monasteries. Crucifixes filled with holy water. Relics by the binful, saints' bones by the bagful, a piece of the True Cross, bilge pump off the Ark — everything. And what do they say when I show them this? I think I may have a previous engagement. None of them will go — not even the king."

  "Verily, I would sally forth on the quest were it not that the pressing business of rule doth stay me. Heavy hangs the head that bears the crown."

  "Yeah, sure," Merlin muttered, far from being conned but careful not to sink into lese majesty. "So where are we now? We have a menace to the realm, identified and located and ready to be knocked out. By one old man? You must be joking. I got powers, sure, but I need brawn and a few battle-axes behind me."

  "Which is where we come in," Bill said, aware now that their rescue had not been that altruistic.

  "You've been peeking at my cards. I saw you land through my telescope — magic mirror that is. You were brought in by flying dragon and, being Welsh, I greatly appreciated that. I said, King, I said, those are the toughies we need. Strangers, not afraid of the gods." He stopped and looked at them piercingly. "You are not superstitious — are you?"

  "I'm a Fundamentalist Zoroastrian," Bill said humbly.

  "Get on with it," Praktis snarled. "Let's hear the proposition first, then we get out of it afterwards."

  "There is no more to be said. Good King Arthur freed you from the Legions. You will be armed and you will follow me to the Temple of Mars where we will buy Mars off with an offering or two."

  "Sounds simple enough," Cy sneered. "But what if we don't go?"

  "That's easy. You go — back to the circus. And we will donate a few hungry lions to the festivities."

  "Be ye of good cheer," King Arthur advised, pulling rank. "And be ye advised that ye honours list is going in soonest. Verily a knighthood or two, maybe a garter and a CBE, lurketh in ye future."

  They were less than impressed by the generosity of the offer. "We would like to talk this over among ourselves," Meta said.

  "Of course. Take your time. Take a whole hour." Merlin put a sandglass on the table and turned it over. "The choice is yours. A journey to the temple — or back to the Big Top."

  CHAPTER 22

  "It's always bowb-your-buddy week," Bill sniffed pathetically.

  "It was the dog — if only I hadn't whistled to the dog," Captain Bly whined.

  "I could use some dope," Cy susurrated.

  "It's harvest time back on the farm," Wurber whimpered.

  Meta curled her lip in disgust and Praktis nodded agreement. "If I were still in command I would shake you miserable lot out of your depression quickly enough. But, being just one of the boys now all I can do is suggest that we stop weeping in our beer and find a way out of this."

  He looked out of the window and sought succor; but it was a straight drop to the rocks below. Meta tried the door but Arthur had locked it behind him when they left.

  "Why don't we do just what they asked?" Bill said brightly, then cowered beneath the barrage of angry glares. "Listen — let me finish before you glare me to death. I was going to say that there was no easy way out of this castle. And even if there were the Legion is still there to cope with. So we go along with this screwball plan. We get weapons and all and slip out of here — along with one ancient Welshman."

  "I read you loud and clear," Praktis chortled. "Henceforth you will be known as First Lieutenant Bill. We get well clear of the castle and the Legions, knock the old boy on the head — then trot off armed and free and on our own!"

  There was a thud as the last grain of sand dropped through the sandglass and, at the same instant, the door rattled and opened. King Arthur entered.

  "What sayest thou?"

  "We sayest yay," they saidest.

  "If ye die it will be in the noblest of causes. Get thee hence to the armorers!"

  They were fitted with armor, chainmail, helms, halberds, dirks, daggers, crossbows, swords, shields and relief tubes. "I can't move," Bill muffled inside his helmet.

  "As long as your sword arm is free it matterest not," the armorer said, hammering a loose rivet into place on Praktis's helmet.

  "I've gone deaf — knock that off!" the admiral howled, taking one staggering step then crashing to the floor. "I can't get up."

  "Unaccustomed as thee are to armor, perhaps less might be in order." The armorer signaled his assistants. "Strip them down a bit so they can move."

  After about a ton of armor had been cast aside they could walk easily — though they creaked. The old oil can put that right and they were quaffing a bit of wine for the road when Merlin, similarly armored, came in riding on a donkey.

  "Do we get to ride too?" Bill asked.

  "Shank's mare, boyo, good for the muscle tone. We exit through this secret tunnel that will bring us out in the hills beyond the attacking Legion."

  "Sounds great," Praktis said, and they all winked wildly at each other and chuckled behind their hands when Merlin turned away. Lit torches were handed t
o them, a barred door swung open, and they followed Merlin down the dank, water-dripping tunnel. And it was a long tunnel. They seemed to be staggering on forever, the air growing musty and foul, their torches going out one by one. When the last torch was flickering its last Praktis called out to Merlin.

  "This is a silly question, I know — but when this torch snuffs it, how do we find our way?"

  "Fear not — for Merlin is a wizard. The torch dies. But I have this magic crystal ball to lighten the darkness. Abra Cadabra!"

  He removed the sphere from the bag fixed before him and held it high. It glowed weakly, then brightened when he shook it. Bill looked close, then whispered to Meta.

  "Some magic. He's got a crummy old fishbowl full of fireflies."

  "I heard that!" Merlin shouted. "But it's more than you have, Snoopy, and it will get us out of here."

  The end of the tunnel finally appeared and they emerged into a shadowed glade. Filled with King Arthur's troops.

  "An honor guard," Merlin smirked. "To see that you all do the honorable thing and don't try to go AWOL before we reach the Temple of Mars."

  Their response was only silence and dark looks. He cackled with senile hilarity and led the way. The reluctant volunteers followed him and the troops followed them. They marched all that day, through forest, wooded canyons, dry river bottoms, along bubbling brooks and through glacier-worn foothills. It was a long hot march and at its end they dropped gratefully into the soft grass of a meadow as the sun slipped from sight.

  "I'm thirsty," Cy said.

  "Water in that stream." Merlin pointed the way. "Five guards will go with you."

  "When do we eat?" Bill asked.

  "Now. Sergeant, pass out the hardtack."

  Each piece had ABC stamped into it, standing for the Avalon Bread Company, and it must have been stamped in before they were baked. Or annealed, or petrified, or whatever. Because the tooth had not been grown in the jaw not yet born that could bite a piece from an Avalonian hardtack. It had to be pounded between two rocks, strong rocks, because weak ones broke before the hardtack did. Any pieces of hardtack that splintered off might become edible if soaked in water. They muttered and pounded and glared at Merlin who was eating cold roast swan and washing it down with malmsey.

  For two days they marched in this fashion, until they entered a dark and ominous valley. A giant rift was carved in the rock as though by a giant's ax. The valley dripped with water from hidden springs, the stone walls were covered with foul lichen. "Not too far now," Merlin said cheerily. "This valley goes by the quaint local name of Descensus Avernus. Which can be translated roughly as You go in but you don't go out."

  "Company — halt!" the commander of their guards ordered. "Where doth this dank valley go, honored wizard?"

  "It leadeth to the Temple of Mars."

  "Verily! Then we shall remaineth here and guard your rear. Go with our blessings!"

  "Thanks. I'm surprised I got you this far. Wait here then for our return. And, postus scriptus, if I don't come back with this lot, should they return alone, you can use them as targets for your bowmen."

  "Verily, as you say!"

  Merlin squinted up at the sky. "A couple of hours yet before it gets dark. Let's get this over with. Here."

  He handed down a heavy bag that had been lashed to the back of the saddle.

  "What's this?" Meta asked, hefting its weight.

  "The religious safeguards that I showed you."

  "Leave them with these cowardly troops," Praktis said, superiority dripping from his fingertips. "Might help their morale."

  "If you say so. But first..." Merlin rooted about in the bag and dug out a cross, a six-pointed star, a crescent and a piece of garlic. "I don't hold with superstition myself but it doesn't hurt to hedge your bets. Onward."

  They followed him in gloomy silence until a turn in the canyon took them out of sight of the troops.

  "Let's hold it right here," Praktis said and they ground to a halt.

  "I did not order a stop," Merlin said.

  "But I did. If we are going all the way with you — and looking at the steepness of the rock wall I would say we had little choice — just what is your plan of action?"

  "To go to the temple."

  "And then?"

  "Call upon Mars to appear and partake of our gifts and offerings."

  "What gifts and offerings?"

  "All that hardtack you've been shlepping. It's not good for anything else. Then when he takes our gifts we get him on our side. Then he can stop issuing orders for war. Simple."

  "Simple minded," Bill said. "Why should Mars do that?"

  "Why not? Gods are always interceding in mankind's affairs. It just depends who gets the bribe in first."

  "I'm not intrigued by this lecture on comparative theology," Meta said. "The damp is getting into my chainmail and I'm going to rust solid if we don't move. All this jaw-jaw is accomplishing exactly nothing. Let us find the temple and play it by ear after that. Move."

  They moved. And when they did, from the chasm ahead, they heard the beat of drums and the distant call of bugles.

  "Listen!" Bill said. "What's that?"

  "The Temple of Mars," Merlin intoned. "Prepare to meet thy destiny!"

  They went on, slower and slower, hands on sword pommels, fingers plucking nervously at daggers and morning-stars. But what good would physical weapons be against the power of the gods?

  The martial music sounded louder — and there it was! One last turn of the valley revealed the white marble of the temple. The altar for the offerings stood before it, and behind the altar steps led up to the dark opening of the sanctum sanctorum. They walked in silence, on tiptoe, as though afraid of disturbing the god within the temple, slowly approaching the marble altar. Which was empty of anything other than the splatters of bird droppings and an old apple core.

  "The offerings," Merlin whispered as he climbed creaking from the saddle. "On the altar."

  When the hardtack dropped onto the stained marble the music instantly stopped. They did too, frozen in apprehension as the darkness in the temple entrance changed, writhed with motion — and a great black cloud boiled forth. There was a clatter of hooves as the donkey galloped away. Then the voice! It didn't speak but thundered like a breaking storm, rolling out of the temple.

  "Who goes there? What mortals are these who face the wrath of mighty Mars?"

  "Merlin, world-famous wizard of Avalon."

  "I know you, Merlin. You dabble in the arcane arts and think to control the powers of darkness."

  "My hobby, great Mars. I also go to church every Sunday. Now I, and my comrades, have come to do you homage and bring you great gifts and beseech your godly aid in our endeavors..."

  "Great gifts!" the mighty voice bellowed. "These inedible wafers you dare put before Mars!" A great gust of wind burst from the temple, blowing the hardtack away and knocking them all to the ground.

  And this wasn't all! The clouds and darkness billowed and thundered, redshot now with the fires of hell, and within their murky midst a face took shape. Ugly and scowling, wearing a helmet with a spike on the top and skulls all about. When Mars opened his mouth to bellow at them they could see that all of his teeth were the size, and shape, of tombstones.

  "I reject your puny and inedible gifts. You risk death for your temerity —"

  "How about this then?"

  Merlin held up a gold bar he had taken from his wallet and it gleamed in the bursts of lightning.

  "That's a bit more like it!" Mars boomed. "On the altar with it. Any more where that came from?"

  "Verily. Here is a pearl and silver pin for a gent's cloak, a diamond garter for the woman who has everything, a smart tie pin set with rubies and moonstones."

  "Moonstones, good. Diana will like them."

  "I am glad that mighty Mars is glad. Therefore I request a boon."

  "Speak. What is it that you wish."

  "'Tis simple, a small thing. Stop the war. Order the Legion ba
ck to their barracks."

  "What is this, mortal? Ask Mars, God of War, to stop the war? Never!"

  A thunderbolt shot out of the mouth of Mars and blasted the ground at their feet, blowing a smoking hole in the ground. They dived aside as Mars boomed his wrath above them.

  "I should destroy you as well with my heavenly thunderbolts. The war goes on. Leave — or you die. In return for your offerings I give you your lives. No more. Begone!"

  When the lightning hit Bill had dived for cover and plastered himself against the wall of the temple. The entrance was close by and the roiling fog not as thick here. He crept forward and poked his head around the marble column. And looked. Then looked a lot more. Only when he felt himself looked out did he creep back and join the others.

  "Great Mars," Merlin implored. "If not an end to the war — how about a cease-fire for a few months until the crops are in?"

  "Never!" Lightning flared and exploded around him. "Begone now or you die! The countdown to destruction is resumed. Nine...eight...seven..."

  "We hear you, Mars, no problem!" Bill shouted. "Going back down the valley now. Been nice to meet you. Bye-bye."

  Merlin hesitated but the rest were happy to leave. Until Bill waved them down, put finger to lips for silence, and crept back along the temple walls.

  "He's cracked up," Praktis said.

  "Shut up and look!" Meta punctuated her words with a sharp elbow in his ribs. Bill was at the entrance to the temple now — standing and stepping through it! He waved them after him. In silent wriggle they wriggled his way. While Mars boomed and bellowed.

  "Four...three...And you are gone! And don't come back, miserable Merlin — nor any of your henchmen. Only death at the hands of mighty Mars awaits you here!"

  Bill walked into the temple and the others followed him.

  "Look," he said. "Won't you just look at that!"

  CHAPTER 23

  The interior of the temple had been carved roughly from the rock, with the marks of the drills and chisels still visible. Spiderwebs filled the corners and dry leaves littered the floor. Elegant it was not. Right beside the entrance a smoke generator was pumping out smoke. This rose into the air in a dense cloud. The image of Mars's face was being projected onto the cloud by a movie projector to the rear. His voice echoed and laughed from matched Wharfdale speakers, complete with woofers and tweeters.