in the afternoon, had made many trips to the sul patch. This, however, was the
first time she had encountered the young man. Earlier he had been working with
other thralls at the shore, with parsit nets. "Ah," said he, "greetings, my fine
young lady of Kassau.' She looked at him, her eyes flashing. "Did you think in
Kassau," he asked, "that you would one day be dunging the fields of one of
Torvaldsland ?" She said nothing to him. "I did not know in Kassau," said he,
"that you had such fine legs." He laughed. "Why did you not, in Kassau," he
asked, 'show us what fine legs you have ?" She was furious. She, holding her
kirtle with her left hand, angrily scattered the dung about the sul plants. It
would be left to a thrall to hoe it in about the plants. "Oh, do not lower your
kirtle, Thyri," said he. "Your brand is quite lovely. Will you not show it,
again, to Wulfstan of Kassau ?" Angrily she drew her kirtle up, revealing her
thigh. Then, furiously, she thrust it down. "How do you like it, Thyri," asked
he, "to find that you are now a girl whose belly lies beneath the sword ?" "It
lies not beneath your sword," she snapped. "I belong to free men!" Then, with
the brazenness of a bond-maid, she, Thyri, who had been the fine young lady of
Kassau, threw her kirtle up over her hips and, leaning forward, spit furiously
at the thrall. He leaped toward her but Ottar was even quicker. He struck
Wulfstan, the thrall, Tarsk, behind the back of his neck with the handle of his
ax. Wulfstan fell stunned. In an instant Ottar had bound the young man's hands
before his body. He then jerked him to his knees by the iron collar. "You have
seen what your ax can do to posts," said he to me, "now let us see what it can
do to the body of a man." He then threw the young thrall to his feet, holding
him by the collar, his back to me. The spine, of course, would be immediately
severed; moreover, part of the ax will, if the blow be powerful, emerge from the
abdomen. It takes, however, more than one blow to cut a body, that of a man, in
two. To strike more than twice, however, is regarded as clumsiness. The young
man stood, numbly, caught. Thyri, her kirtle down, shrank back, her hand before
her mouth. "You have seen," said Ottar, to the Forkbeard, "that he has been bold
with a bond-maid, the property of free men." "Thralls and bond-maids,
sometimes," said I, "banter." "He would have put his hands upon her," said
Ottar. That seemed true, and was surely more serious. Bond-maids were, after
all, the property of free men. It was not permitted for a thrall to touch them.
"Would you have touched her?" asked the Forkbeard. "Yes, my Jarl," whispered the
young man. "You see!" cried Ottar. "Let Red Hair strike!" I smiled. "Let llim be
whipped instead," I said. "No!" cried Ottar. "Let it be as Red Hair suggests,"
said the Forkbeard. He then looked at the thrall. "Run to the whipping post,;'
he said. "Beg the first free rnan who passes to beat you." Yes, myJarl," he
said. He would be stripped and bound, wrists over his head, to the post at the
bosk shed "Fifty strokes," said the Forkbeard. "Yes, my Jarl," said the young
man "The lash," said the Forkbeard, "will be the snake." His punishment would be
heavy indeed. The snake is a single-bladed whip, weighted, of braided leather,
eight feet long and about a half an inch to an inch thick. It is capable of
lifting the flesh from a man's back. Sometimes it is set with tiny particles of
metal. It was not impossible that he would die under its blows. The snake is to
be distinguished from the much more common Gorean slave whip, with its five
broad striking surfaces. The latter whip, commonly used on females, punishes
terribly; it has, however, the advantage of not marking the victim. No one is
much concerned, of course, with whether or not a thrall is marked . A girl with
an unmarked back, commonly, will bring a much hlgher price tha.n a comparable
wench, if her back be muchly scarred. Men commonly relish a smooth female,
except for the brand scar. In Turia and Ar, it might be mentioned it is not
uncommon for a female slave to be depilated. The young thrall looked at me. It
was to me that he owed his life. "Thank you, my Jarl," he said. Then he turned
and, wrists still bound before his body, as Ottar had fastened them, ran toward
the bosk shed. "Go, Ottar, to the forge shed," said the Forkbeard, grinning.
Tell Gautrek to pass by the bosk shed." Ottar grinned. "Good," he said. Gautrek
was the smith: I did not envy the young man. "And Ottar," said the Forkbeard,
"see that the thrall returns to his work in the morning." "I shall," said Ottar,
and turned toward the forge shed. "I hear, Red Hair," said Ivar Forkbeard, "that
your lessons with the ax proceed well." "I am pleased if Ottar should think so,"
I said. "I, too, am pleased that he should think so," said Ivar Forkbeard, "for
that is indication that it is true." Then he turned away. "I shall see you
tonight at the feast," he said. "Is there to be another feast ?" I asked. "What
is the occasion ?" There had been feasts the past four nights. "That we are
pleased to feast," said Ivar Forkbeard. "That is occasion enough." He then
turned away. I turned to the girl, Thyri. I stood over her. "Part of what
occurred here," I told her, "is your fault, bond-maid." She put her head down.
"I hate him," she said, "but I would not have wanted him to be killed." She
looked up. "Am I to be punished, my Jarl ?" she asked. "Yes," I told her. Fear
entered her eyes. How beautiful she was. "But with the whip of the furs," I
laughed. "I look forward eagerly, my Jarl," laughed she, "to my punishment."
"Run," said I. She turned and ran toward the hall, but, after a few steps
turned, and faced me. "I await your discipline, my Jarl," she cried, and then
turned again, and fled, that fine young lady of Kassau, barefoot and collared,
now only a bond-maid, to the hall, to the furs, to await her discipline. "Is it
only a bond-maid, my Jarl," asked Thyri, "who can know these pleasures?" "It is
said," I said, "that only a bond-maid can know them." She lay on her back, her
head turned toward me. I lay at her side, on one elbow. Her left knee was drawn
up; about her left ankle, locked, was the black-iron fetter, with its chain. On
her throat was the collar of iron. "Then, myJarl," said sheO "I am happy that I
am a bond-maid." I took her again in my arrns. "Red Hair!" called Ivar
Forkbeard. "Come with mel" Rudely I thrust Thyri from me, leaving her on the
furs. In moments, ax in its sheath on my back, I joined the Forkbeard. Outside
were gathered several men, both of Ivar's ship and of the farm. Arnong them,
eyes terrified, crookedbacked, was a cringing, lame thrall "Lead us to what you
have found," demanded the Forkbeard. We followed the man more than four pasangs,
up the slopes, leading to the summer pastures. Then, on a height, from which we
could see, far below the farm and ship of Ivar Forkbeard, we stopped. Behind a
large rock, the cringing thrall, frightened, indicated what he had found. Then
he did not wish to look upon it I was startled. "Are there Larls in these
mountains ?" I asked. The men looked at me as though I might have been insane.
"No sIeen did this," said I. We Io
oked down at the remains of a bosk, torn apart
eaten through. Even large bones had been broken, snapped apparently in rnighty
jaws, the marrow sucked from thern. The brains, too, had been scooped, with a
piece of wood, from the skull. "Did you not know," asked Ivar Forkbeard, "of
what animal this is the work?" "No," I said. "This has been killed by one of the
Kurii," he said. For four days we hunted the animal, but we did not find it.
Though the kill was recent, we found no trace of the predator. "We must find
it," had said the Forkbeard. "It must learn it cannot with impunity hunt on the
lands of Forkbeard." But we did not find it. We did not have a feast, as we had
intended, on the night on which the bosk had been found eaten, nor on the next
nights. In vain we hunted. The men grew angry, sullen, apprehensive. Even the
bond-maids no longer laughed and sported. There might, for all we knew, be
somewhere in the lands of Ivar Forkbeard one of the Kurii. "It must have left
the district," said Ottar, on the fourth night. "There have been no further
kills," pointed out Gautrek, the smith, who had hunted with us. "Do you think it
is the one who killed the verr last month " I asked Ottar, "and similarly
disappeared ?" "I do not know," said Ottar. "It could be, for those of the Kurii
are quite rare this far to the south." "It may have been driven fram its own
kind," said the Forkbeard, "one too vicious even to be tolerated in its own
caves.7' "It might, too," said Ottar, "be insane or ignorant." "Perhaps,"
suggested Gorm, "it is diseased or injured, and can no longer hunt the swift
deer of the north ?" In these cases, too, I supposed one of the Kurii might be
driven, by teeth and claws, from its own caves. Kurii, I suspected, those of Gor
as well as those of the ships, did not tolerate weakness. "At any rate," I said,
"it seems now to be gone." "We are safe now," said Gautrek. "Shall we have a
feast ?" asked Gorm. "No," said the Forkbeard. "This night my heart is not in
feasting." "At least the beast is gone," said Gautrek. "We are safe now," said
Gorm. I awakened in the darkness. Thyri's body was snuggled against mine; she
was asleep; I had not used her this night. She was fettered, of course. I lay
very still. For some reason I was uneasy. I heard the heavy breathing of the men
in the hall. At my side, I heard Thyri's breathing, too, deep and soft, that of
the smaller lungs of a girl. I did not move. I felt, or thought I felt, a breath
of fresh air. I lay in the darkness. I did not move. Then I smelled it. With a
cry of rage I leaped to my feet on the couch hurling away the furs. In the same
instant I felt myself seized in great, clawed paws and lifted high into the air
of the hall. I could not see my assailant. Then I was hurled over the couch
against the curved wall of turf and stone. "What is going on !" I heard cry.
Thyri, awakened, screamed. I lay, stunned, at the foot of the wall, on the
couch. "Torches!" cried the Forkbeard. "Torches!" Men cried out; bond-maids
screamed. I heard the sound of feeding. Then in the light of a torch, lifted by
the Forkbeard, lit from being thrust beneath the ashes of the fire pit, we saw
it. It was not more than ten feet from me. It lifted its face from the
half-eaten body of a man. Its eyes, large, round, blazed in the light of the
torch. I heard the screaming of bond-maids, the movements of their chains. Their
ankles were held by their fetters. "Weapons !" cried the ForkbeaPd. "Kur! Kur!"
I heard men cry. The beast stood there, blinking, bent over the body. It was
unwilling to surrender it. Its fir was sable, mottled with white. Its ears,
large, pointed and wide, were laid back flat against its head. It was perhaps
seven feet tall and weighed four or five hundred pounds. Its snout was wide,
leathery. There were two nostrils, slitlike. Its tongue was dark. It had two
rows of fangs, four of which were particularly prominent, those in the first row
of fangs, above and below, in the position of canines; of these, the upper two
were particularly long, and curved. Its arms were longer and larger than its
legs; it held the body it was devouring in clawed, pawlike hands, yet
six-digited, extrajointed, almost like tentacles. It hissed, and howled and,
eyes blazing, fangs bared, threatened us. No one could seem to move. It stood
there in the torchlight, threatening us, unwilling to surrender its body. Then,
behind it I saw an uplifted ax, and the ax struck down, cutting its backbone a
foot beneath its neck. It slumped forward, over the couch half falling across
the body of a hysterical bond-maid. Behind it I saw Rollo. He did not seem in a
frenzy; nor did he seem human; he had struck, when others, Gautrek, Gorm, I,
even the Forkbeard, had been unable to do other than look upon it with horror.
Rollo again lifted the ax. "No !" cried Ivar Forkbeard. "The battle is done!"
The giant lowered his ax and, slowly, returned to his couch, to sleep. One of
his men touched its snout with the butt of his spear, and then thrust it into
the beast's mouth; the butt of the spear was torn away; the bond-maids screamed.
"It is still alive!" cried Gorm. "Get it out of here," said Ivar Forkbeard.
"Beware of the jaws. With chains and poles the body of the Kur was dragged and
thrust from the hall. We took it outside the palisade, on the rocks. It was
getting light. I knelt beside it. It opened its eyes. "Do you know me ?" I
asked. "No," it said. "This is a small Kur," said the Forkbeard. "They are
generally larger. Note the mottling of white. Those are disease marks." "I
hope," I said, "that it was not because of me that it came to the hall." "No,"
said the Forkbeard. "In the dark they have excellent vision. If it had been you
it sought, it would have been you it killed." "Why did it enter the hall ?" I
asked. "Kurrii," said Ivar Forkbeard, "are fond of human flesh." Humans, like
other animals, I knew, are regarded by those of the Kurii as a form of food.
"Why did it not run or flight ?" I asked. The Forkbeard shrugged. "It was
feeding," he said. Then he bent to the beast. "Have you hunted here before?" he
asked. "Have you killed a verr here, and a bosk?" "And, in the hall," it said,
its lips drawing back from its jaws, "last night a man." "Kill it," said Ivar
Forkbeard. Four spears were raised, but they did not strike. "No," said Ivar
Forkbeard. "It is dead." Chapter 8 Hilda of Scagnar "So is this the perfume that
the high-born women of Ar wear to the song-dramas in En'Kara ?" asked the blond
girl, amused. "Yes, Lady," I assured her, bowing before her, lisping in the
accents of Ar. "It is gross," said she. "Meaningless." "It is a happy scent," I
whined. "For the low-born," said she. "Lalamus!" said I. My assistant, a large
fellow, but obviously stupid, smoothshaven as are the perfurners, in white and
yellow silk, and golden sandals, bent over, hurried forward. He carried a tray
of vials. "I had not realized, Lady," said I, "that perception such as yours
existed in the north." My accent rnight not have fooled one of Ar, but it was
not bad, and to those not often accustomed to the swift, subtle liquidity of the
spfflh of Ar, melodius yet expressive, it was more than adecluate. My assistant,
unfor
tunately, did not speak. The eyes of Hilda the Haughty, daughter of
Thorgard of Scagnar, flashed. "You of the south think we of the north are
barbarians !" she snapped. "Such fools we were," I admitted, putting my head to
the floor. "I might have you fried in the grease of tarsk," she said, "boiled in
the oil of tharlarion!" 134 "Will you not take pity, gr,~at Lady," I whined, "on
tho~ who did not suspect the ci~filization, the refinements, of tl; north ?"
"Perhaps," said she.~"Have you other perfumes ?" My assistant, hopefully, lifted
a vial. "No," I hissed to him. "In an instant such a woman wi see through such a
scent." "Let me smell it," said she. "It is nothing, lady," I whined, "though
among the highes born and most beautiful of the women of the Physicians i is
much favored." "Let me smell it," she said. I removed the cork, and turned away
my head, as thougl shamed. She held it to her nose. "It stinks," she said.
Hastily I corked the vial and, angrily, thrust it back intc the hand of my
embarrassed assistant, who returned it tc its place. Hilda sat in a great curule
chair, carved with the sign o~ Scagnar, a serpent-ship, seen frontally. On each
post of the chair, carved, was the head of a snarling sleen. She smiled, coldly.
I reached for another vial. She wore rich green velvet, closed high about her
neck, trimmed with gold. She took the next vial, which I had opened for her.
"No," she said, handing it back to me. Her hair, long, was braided. It was tied
with golden string. "I had no understanding," said she, "that the wares of Ar
were so inferior." Ar, populous and wealthy, the greatest city of known Gor, was
regarded as a symbol of quality in merchandise. The stamp of Ar, a single
letter, that which appears on its Home Stone, the Gorean spelling of the city's
name, was often forged by unscrupulous tradesmen and placed on their own goods.
It is not a difflcult sign to forge. It has, however, in spite of that, never
been changed or embelli~hed; the stamp 135 ~'~ of Ar is a part of its tradition.
In my opinion the goods of Ko-ro-ba were as good, or better, than those of Ar
but, it is true, she did not have the reputation of the great city to the
southeast, across the Vosk. Ar is often looked to, by those interested in such
matters, as the setter of the pace in dress and ~nanners. Fashions in Ar are
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