craning her neck, looking over her father's shoulder, was the large blond girl,
in her black velvet and silver. "Praises be unto the Priest-Kings!" called out
the High Initiate. "Praises unto the Priest-Kings." Responded the initiates. It
was in that moment, and in that moment only, that I detected on the thin, cold
face of the High Initiate of Kassau, an tiny smile of triumph. He bent down, on
one knee, they tiny, rounded, golden box containing the grease of Priest-Kings
in his left hand and drew back with his right hand the long, white shroud
concealing the body of Ivar Forksbeard. Doubtless it was the High Initiate of
Kassau who first knew. He seemed frozen. The eyes of the Forkbeard opened, and
Ivar Forksbeard grinned at him. With a roar of laughter, hurling the shroud from
him, to the horror of the High Initiate, and other initiates, and the
congregation, Ivar Forksbeard, almost seven feet in height, leaped to his feet,
in his right hand clutching a great, curved, single-bladed ax of hardened iron.
"Praise be to Odin!" he cried. Then he with his ax, with a single swing,
splattering blood on the sheets of gold, cut the head from the body of the High
Initiate of Kassau, and leaped, booted, to the height of the very altar of the
temple itself. He threw back his head laugh, with a wild roaring the bloody ax
in his hand. I heard the beams of the two doors of the temples being thrown in
place, locking the people within. I saw ther cloaks of the men of Torvaldsland
hurled from them and saw, gripped in their two hands, great axes. I suddenly saw
the large man of Torvaldsland, he of incredible stature, seem to come alive,
veins prominent on his forehead, mouth slobbering, striking about himself almost
blindly with a great ax. Ivar Forksbeard stood on the high altar. "The men of
Torvaldsland, " he cried, are upon you!" Chapter 3 I make the acquaitance of
Ivar Forkbeard and book passage on his ship Screaming pierced my ears I was
almost thrown from my feet by the buffeting, shrieking bodies. I strained my
eyes to see through the clouds of incense hanging in the temple. I smelled
blood. A girl cried out. People, merchants, the rich, the poor, fishermen,
porters, fled towards the great doors, there to be cut down with axes. They fled
back to the centre of the temple, huddled together. Axes cut through their
midst. I heard shouts. I heard the harsh war cries of Torvaldsland. I heard
golden sheets of metal being pried from the square pillars of the temple. The
interior of the sanctuary was strewn with dead initiates, many hacked to pieces.
The four boys who had sung in the services held to one another, crying, like
girls. From the high altar, standing upon it, Ivar Forkbeard directed his men.
"Hurry!" he cried. "Gather what you can!" "Kneel beneath the ax!" cried out one
of the burghers of Kassau, who wore black satin, a silver chain about his neck.
I gathered he might be administrator in this town. The people, obediently, began
to kneel on the dirt floor of the temple, their heads down. I saw two men of T
loading their cloaks with golden plate and vessels from the sanctuary, hurling
them like tin and iron into the furs. A fisherman cringed near me. One of the
men of Torvaldsland raised his ax to strike him. I caught the ax as it descended
and held it. The warrior of Torvaldsland looked at me, startled. His eyes
widened. At his throat was then point of the sword of Port Kar. Weapon s are not
to be carried in the temple of Priest-Kings but I had been taught, long ago, by
Kamchak of the Tuchuks, at a banquet in Turia, that where weapons may not be
carried, it is well to carry weapons. "Kneel before the ax," I told the
fisherman. He did so I released the ax of the man of Torvaldsland, and removed
my blade from his throat. "Do not strike him," I told the man of Torvaldsland.
He drew back his ax, and stepped away, regarding me, startled, wary. "Gather
loot!" cried Forkbeard. " Are you waiting for the Sa-Tarna harvest!" The man
turned away and began to pull the gold hanging from the walls. I saw, twenty
feet from me, screaming, the giant, he of incredible stature, striking down at
the kneeling people, who were crying out and trying to crawl away. The great
blade dipped and cut, and swept up, and then cut down again. I saw the wild
muscles of his bare arms bulging and knotted. Slobber came from his mouth. One
man lay half cut through. "Rollo!" cried out Forkbeard. "The battle is done!"
The giant, with the grayish face and shaggy hair, stood suddenly, unnaturally,
quiet, the great, curved blade lifted over a weeping man. He lifted his head
slowly, and turned it, slowly, towards the altar. "The battle is done!" cried
Forkbeard Two men of Torvaldsland then held the giant by the arms, and lowered
his ax, and, gently, turned him away from the people. He turned and looked back
at them, and they cowered away. But it did not seem that they recognised them.
It seemed he did not know them and had not seen them before. Again his eyes
seemed vacant. He turned away, and walked slowly, carrying his ax, toward one of
the doors of the temple. "Those who would live," called our Forkbeard, "lie on
the your stomachs." The people in the temple, many of them splattered with the
blood of their neighbours, some severely wounded, threw themselves, shuddering,
man and woman, and child, to their stomachs. They lay among many of their own
dead. I myself did not lie with them. Once I had been of the warriors. I stood.
The men of Torvaldsland turned to face me. "Why do you not lie beneath the ax,
Stranger?" called out Forkbeard. "I am not weary," I told him. Forkbeard
laughed. "It is a good reason," he said. "Are you of Torvaldsland?" "No," I told
him. "You are of the warriors?" asked Forkbeard. "Perhaps once," I told him. "I
shall see," said Forkbeard. Then to one of his men, he said, "Hand me a spear."
One of the spears which had formed the platform on which he had been carried,
gaining entrance to Kassau and the temple, was handed to him. Suddenly behind me
I heard a war cry of Torvaldsland. I turned and swept to the guard position, in
the instant seeing the man's distance, and spun again to strike from my body,
before it could penetrate it, the hurled spear of Ivar Forkbeard. It must be
taken behind the point with the swift blow of the forearm. The spear caroomed
away and struck the wall of the temple, fifty feet behind me. In the same
instant I had spun again, in the guard position, to stand against the man with
his ax. He pulled up short, and looked to Ivar Forkbeard. I turned again to face
the Forkbeard. He grinned. "Yes, he said, "once perhaps you were of the
warriors." I looked to the man behind me, and to the others. They lifted their
axes in their right hand. It was a salute of Torvaldsland. I heard their cheers.
"He remains standing." Said Ivar Forkbeard. I sheathed my sword. "Hurry!" called
the Forkbeard to his men. "Hurry! The people of the town will gather!" Swiftly,
tearing hangings from the walls, prying loose sheets of gold, pulling down even
lamps from their chains, filling their cloaks with cups and plates, the men of
Torvaldsland stripped the temple of what they could tear loose and carry. Ivar
Forkbeard leaped down fro
m the altar and began, angrily, to hurl vessels of
consecrated oils against the walls behind the sanctuary. Then he took a rack of
candles and hurled it against the wall. Fire soon bit into the timbers behind
the sanctuary. The Forkbeard then leaped over the rail of the sanctuary and
strode among the people lying on their stomachs, the wall facing the Sardar
being eaten by fire, illuminating the interior of the temple. He reached down,
here and there, to rip a purse from one of the richer townsfolk. He took the
purse of the burgher in black satin, and took, too, from his neck, the silver
chain of his office, which he slung about his own neck. He then drew with the
handle of his ax a circle, some twenty feet in diameter, in the dirt floor of
the circle. It was a bond-maid circle. "Females," he cried, gesturing with the
great ax toward the wall opposite the doors, "swiftly! To the wall! Stand with
your backs against it!" Terrified, weeping, the men groaning, the females fled
to the wall. I saw, standing there, terrified, their backs against it, the blond
girl in the scarlet vest and skirt, her hair in the snood of scarlet yarn, tied
with filaments of golden wire; and the large statuesque girl, in black velvet,
with the silver straps over her breasts, and tied about her waist, with the
purse. Ivar Forkbeard, in the light of the burning wall of the temple, quickly
examined the line of women. From some he took jewellery, bracelets, necklaces
and rings. From others her took purses, hanging at their belts. He tore away the
purse from the large blonde girl, and the silver straps, too, which had
decorated the black velvet of her gown. She shrank back against the wall. She
was large breasted. The men of Torvaldsland are fond of such women. The
jewellery and coins which he took he hurled into a golden sacrificial bowl,
which one of his men carried at his side. As he went down the line, he freed
certain women of the wall, telling them to swiftly return to their place, and
lie beneath the ax. Gratefully, they fled to their former places. This left
nineteen girls at the wall. I admired the taste of Forkbeard. They were
beauties. My choices would have been the same. Among them, of course, were the
slender blond girl in the red vest and skirt, and the larger one, now in black
velvet, torn, stripped of its silver straps, its brooches, the purse. He ripped
the snood of scarlet yarn from the slender blond girls hair. Her hair, now
loose, fell behind her to the small of her back. He then tore away the ribbons
and comb of bone and leather that had so intricately held the hair of the larger
blond girl, she in black velvet. Her hair was even longer than that of the more
slender girl. The nineteen girls regarded him, terrified, eyes wide, their faces
lit in the left side by the flames of the burning wall. "Go to the bond-maid
circle," said Ivar Forkbeard, indicating the circle he had drawn in the dirt.
The women cried out in misery. To enter the circle, if one is a female, is, by
the laws of Torvaldsland, to declare oneself a bond-maid. A woman, of course,
need not to enter the circle of her own free will. She may, for example, be
thrown within it, naked and bound. Howsoever she enters the circle, voluntarily,
or by force, free or secured, she emerges from it, by the laws of Torvaldsland,
as a bond-maid. Seventeen of the girls, weeping, fled to the circle, and huddled
within it. Two did not, the slender blond girl and the larger one, in black
velvet. "I am Aelgifu," said the large girl. "I am the daughter of Gurt of
Kassau. He is administrator. There will be ransom money for me." "It is true!"
cried a man, the burgher in black satin, whose chain of office Forkbeard had
torn from his neck. "One hundred pieces of gold," said Forkbeard to him
observing the girl. She stiffened. "Yes," cried the man. "Yes!" "Five nights
from this night," said Ivar Forkbeard, "on the skerry of Einar by the rune-stone
of the Torvaldsmark." I had heard of this stone. It is taken by many to mark the
border between Torvaldsland and the south. Many of those of Torvaldsland,
however, take its borders to be much farther extended than the Torvalds regard
Torvaldsmark. Indeed, some of their ships beach, as the took their country, and
their steel, with them. "Yes!" said the man. "I will bring the money to that
place." "Go to the bond-maid circle," said Ivar Forkbeard to the large girl,
"but do not enter it." "Yes," she said, hurrying to its edge. "The wall of the
temple will not last much longer, " said one of the men of the Forkbeard.
Forkbeard looked then at the younger, blond, more slender girl, she with her
hair now loose, the snood of scarlet. She looked up at him, boldly. "My father
is poorer than Aelgifu's," she said, "but forme, too, there will be a ransom."
She looked at him with horror. In the crowd I heard a man and a woman cry out
with misery. "Go to the circle and enter it," said Ivar Forkbeard to the girl.
She held up her head. "No," she said. "I am free. Never will I consent to be a
bond-maid. I shall first choose death!" "Very well," laughed the Forkbeard.
"Kneel." Startled, she did so, uncertainly. "Put your head down," he said,
"throw your hair forward, exposing your neck." She did so. He lifted the great
ax. Suddenly she cried out and thrust her head to his boot. She held his ankl.e.
Have mery on a bond-maid!" she wept. Ivar Forkbeard laughed and reached down and
pulled her up by the arm, his great fist closed about her arm within the white
woolen blouse, and thrust her stumbling well within the circle. "The wall will
soon fall," said one of the me. I could see the fire creeping now, too, to the
roof. "Bond-maids," ordered Ivar Forkbeard harshly, strip"! Crying out the girls
removed their garments. I saw that the weeping, slender blond-hair girl was
incredibly beautiful. Her legs and belly, and breasts, were marvelous. And her
face, too, was beautiful, sensitive and intelligent. I envied the Forkbeard his
catch. "Fetter them," said Ivar Forkbeard. " I hear the townfolk gathering,"
said one of the men at the door. Two of the men of Torvaldsland had, from their
left shoulder to their right hip, that their right arms be less I impeded, a
chain formed of slave bracelets; each pair of bracelets locked at each end about
one of the bracelets of another pair, the whole thus forming a circle. Now they
removed this chain of bracelets, and, one by one, removed the pairs, closing
them about the small wrists, behind their backs, of the female captives, now
bond-maids. These bracelets were of the sort used to hold women in the north.
The are less ornate and finely tooled than those available in the south. But
they are satisfactory for their purpose. They consist of curve, hinged bands of
black iron, three quarters of an inch in width and a quarter inch in thickness.
On one of each of the two curved pieces constituting a bracelet there is a
welded ring; the two welded rings are joined by a single link, about an inch in
width counting both sides, each of which is about a quarter of an inch in
diameter, and three inches long. Some of the girls cried out with pain as the
fetters, locking, bit into their wrists. I saw the slender girl's wrists pulled
b
ehind her and snapped in the fetters. She winced. They were rough, plain
fetters, but they would hold her well, quite as well as the intricately wrought
counterparts of the south. Ivar Forkbeard regarded Aelgifu. "Fetter her, too,"
he said. She was fettered. The fire had now climbed well unto the roof and had
taken hold on another wall, near the railing, against which the women, earlier,
had stood. It was growing hard to breathe in the temple. "Coffle the females,"
said Forkbeard. With a long length of binding fiber the nineteen girls were
swiftly fastened throat to throat. Aelgifu, clothed, led the coffle. She was
free. The others were only bond-maids. The beams which secured the doors were
thorwn back, but the doors were not opened. The men of Torvaldsland strugled to
lift their burdens.Gold is not light. "Utilize the bond-maids," said the
Forkbeard, anglily. Swiftly, about the necks of the bond-maids were tied strings
plate. Soon, they, too, were heavily burdened. Several stagered under the wieght
of the riches they bore. "In the north, my pretty maids," Ivar assured them, "
the burdens you carry will be more prosaic, bundles of wood for the fires,
buckets of water for the hall, baskets of dung for the fields." They looked at
him with horror understanding then what the nature of their life would be. And
at night, of course, they would server the feasts of their masters, carrying and
filling the great the horns, and delighting them with the softness of their
bodies in the furs. "We are ready to depart," said one of the men. I could hear
angry townspeople outside. "You will never get us to the ship," said the slender
blond girl. "Be silent, bond-maid," said Ivar Forkbear. "My bondage will not
last long," she laughed. "We shall see," laughed Ivar Forkbeard. He then ran,
almost through the flames to the high altar of the temple of Kassau. With a
single leap he attained its summit. The, with his boot and shoulder, he tottered
the great circle of gold which surmounted it. It moved unsteadily, rocking back
and broke apart. It was only golden sheathing on a wheel of clay. The people of
Kassau, within the burning temple, cried, startled. They had understood the
circle to be of solid gold. Standing on the broken fragments of the circle, Ivar
Forkbeard cried out, his ax lifted, and his left hand, too, "Praise be to Odin!"
Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt Page 6
