Norman, John - Gor 09 - Marauders of Gor.txt

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by Marauders of Gor [lit]


  he said. I nodded. What he had said was true. "But surely," I said, "you will

  not dare, an outlaw, attend the Thing ?" "Perhaps," said Ivar. "Who knows ?" He

  grinned "Then," said he, "if I should survive, we will hunt Kurii." "I hunt on]y

  one," I sal'd. "Perhaps the one you hunt," said Ivar, "is even now within the

  holding of Thorgard of Scagnar." "It is possible," I said. "I do not know." It

  seemed to me no~ unlikely that the Forkbeard's speculation might be true. But I

  had no wish to pursue Kurii at random. "How will you know the one ofthe Kurii

  whom you seek ?" Ivar had asked me, in his hall. "I think," I had said, "he will

  know me." Of this I had little doubt. I was certain that the Kur which I sought

  would know me, and well. I did not know it, but I did not think that would make

  much difference. It was my intention to hunt openly, and, I expected, this

  understood, my quarTy, hunting, too, would find me, and, together, we would do

  war. It had doubtless been its plan to lure me to the north. I smiled. Surely

  its plan had been successful. I looked at the holding-of Thorgard of Scagnar. If

  the Kur within it were he whom I sought, I had little doubt but that we should

  later meet. If it were not it which I sought, 145 I had, as far as I knew, no

  quarrel with it. But I wondered what it might be doing in the holding of

  Thorgard of Scagnar. The Kurii and men, as far as I knew, met only in feeding

  and killing. "Let us go," said I to Ivar Forkbeard. "Oars," said he, softly, to

  his oarsmen. The oars, gently, noiselessly, entered the water, and the boat

  moved aw.~y, into the darkness. There was a small sound, from the fetters on the

  prone girl's wrists. The Forkbeard will attend the Thing "MyJarl!" cried Thyri,

  running into my arms. I lifted he and swung her about. She wore the k;irtle of

  white wool, th riveted collar of black iron. I drank long at the lips of the

  bond-maid. About me I heard the joyous cries of the men of Ivar' farm, the

  excited cries of bond-maids. Ivar Forkbeard crushed to his leather Pudding and

  Gunn hild, kissing first one and then the other, as each eagerl~ sought his

  lips, their hands, too, those of bond-maids, eage; upon his body. Other

  bond-maids pressed past me to greet favorite among the oarsmen of Forkbeard's

  serpent. Behind Forkbeard, and to his left, her head high, disdain ful, stood

  Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scag nar. The men, and the

  bond-maids, many in one another'~ arms, fell back to regard her. She stood

  behind the Forkbeard, and to his left. Her back was quite straight; her head was

  in the air. She was nol fettered. Her dress of green velvet, trimmed in gold,

  she still wore; it was torn back from the collar, as the Forkbeard had done in

  Scagnar, revealing the whiteness of her throat, hinting at the delights of her

  bosom; the gown, however, now, was discolored, stained and torn; much of the

  trip she had been fettered, her belly to the mast; also, on ~he right side, it

  was torn to the hip, revealing her thigh, ca1f and ankle; this had happened

  when, on the voyage, she had been 147 put on the oar; her hose and shoes had

  been removed in Scagnar. She stood proudly. She was what the Forkbeard

  had-sought; she was his prize. "So that," said Ottar, his hands on his heavy

  belt, inlaid with gold, "is Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!"

  "Gunnhild is better!" said Pouting Lips. "Who is Gunnhild?" asked Hilda, coldly.

  "I am Gunnhild," said ~unnhild. She stood proudly on the arrn of the Forkbeard,

  the white kirtle split to her beliy, the black iron at her throat. "A

  bond-maid!" laughed Hilda, contemptuously. Gunnhild stared at her, in fury.

  "Gunnhild ;s better!" said Pouting Lips. "Strip them and see," said Ottar. Hilda

  turned white. The Forkbeard turned about and, one arm about Pudding, the other

  about Gunnhild, started from the dock. Hilda followed him, to his left. "She

  heels nicely," said Ottar. The men and bond-maids laughed. The Forkbeard

  stopped. Hilda's face burned red with fury, but she kept her head high. Pet

  sleen are taught to heel; so, too, sometimes, are bondmaids; I was familiar with

  this sort of thing, of course; in the south it was quite common for slave girls,

  in various fashions in various cities, to heel their masters. Hiida, of coursej

  was a free woman. For her to heel was an incredible humiliation. The Forkbeard

  started off again, and then again stopped. Again, Hilda followed him as before.

  "She is heeling!" laughed Ottar. There were tears of rage in Hilda's eyes. What

  he said, of course, was true. She was heeling. On his ship the Forkbeard had

  taught her, though a free woman, to heel. It had not been a pleasant voyage for

  the daughter ~f Thorgard of Scagnar. She had been, from the beginning, fettered

  with her belly to the mast. For a filll day, too, the coverlet had been left

  tied over her head, fastened by the 148 twice-turned, knotted scarf about her

  neck. On the secon day, it had been thrust up only that the spike of a water ba~

  could be thrust between her teeth, and then replaced; on he third day the

  coverlet was torn away and, with the scar~ thrown overboard; Ivar Forkbeard, on

  that day, watered he~ and, with a spoon, fed her a bit of bond-maid gruel.

  Starving she had snatched at jt greedily. ' How eagerly you eat the gruel of

  bond-maids," he had commented. Then she had refused to eat more. But, the next

  day, to his amusement, she reachedl forth her mouth eagerly for the nourishment.

  On the f~th day, and thereafter, for her feedings, he would tie her ankles and

  release her from the mast, her wr1sts ~hen tettered before her, that she might

  feed herself. After the fifth day he fed her broths and some meats, that she

  might have good color. With the improvement n her diet, as was his expectation,

  something of her haughtiness and ~emper returned. On the eighth day he released

  her from the mast, that she mlght waLk about the ship. Atter she had walked

  about, he had said to her, "Are you ready to heel?" "I am not a pet sleen!" she

  had cried. - - "Put her to the oar," had said the Forkbeard. Hilda, clothed, had

  been roped, hand and foot, and body,on her back, head down, to one of the

  nineteen-foot oars. "You cannot do Ihis to me," she cried. Then, to her misery,

  she felt the oar move. "I am a free woman!" she cried. Then, like any bond-maid,

  she found herself plunged beneath the cold green surface of Thassa. The oar

  lifted. "I arn the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar!" she cried, sp~t~ln~ wa-er,

  half blinded. Then Ihe oar dipped again. When it pulled her next from the water,

  she was ciearly te~ified. She had swallowed water. She had learned what any

  bond-maid swi~tly learns, that one ~ 149 must apply oneself, and be rational, if

  one will survive on the oar. One must follow its rhythm, and, as soon as

  th~surface is broken, expel air and take a deep breath. In this fashion a girl

  may live on the oar. For a time the Forkbeard watched her, leaning on hi elbows,

  on the rail, but then he left the rail. He did, however, have Gorm watch her,

  with a spear. Twice in the afternoon Gorm struck away sea sleen frorn the girl's

  body. Once he thrust away one of the white sharks of the northern waters, The

  second of the sea sleen it had been which
, with its sharp teeth, making a

  strike, but falling short, had torn away her green velvet gown on the right side

  from the hip to the hemline; a long strip of it, like a ribbon, was in its teeth

  as it darted away. She had not been on the oar for half an Ahn when she had

  begun to beg her release; a few Ehn later, she had begun to beg to heel the

  Forkbeard. But it was not until evening that the oar lifted, and she was

  released. She was fed hot broths and fettered again tO the mast. The Forkbeard

  said nothing to her, but, the next day, when the sun was hot on the deck, and he

  released her for her exercise, and he waIked about the deck, she, though a free

  woman, heeled him perfectly. The crew had roared with laughter. I, too, had

  smiled. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Ths)rgard o~ Scagn~r, had been taught to

  heel. Ivar Forkbeard left the dock, his arm~ about Pudding and Gunnhild, who

  leaned against him. Hilda, head high, followed him. Pouting Lips rall beside

  her. "Gunnhild is better!" she cried. Hilda paid her no attention. "Thick

  ankles!" said Pretty Ankles. "She has a rowing bench inside her gown," said Olga

  "Broad in the beam!" laughed another girl. Suddenly, in fury, Hilda struck at

  them. The Forkbeard turned about. "What is going on here?" he asked. "We were

  telling her how ugly she is," said Pouting Lips. 150 "I am ~ot ugly!" cried

  Hilda. "Remove your clothing," said the Forkbeard. Her eyes widened with horror.

  -"Never!" she cried. "Never!" The men and bond-maids about laughed. "You have

  taught me to heel," she said, "Ivar Forkbeard, but you have not taught me to

  obey!" "Strip her," said the Forkbeard to the bond-maids. They leaped eagerly

  upon Hilda the Haughty. In moments the proud girl, naked, was held before the

  Forkbeard. Olga held one arm, Pretty Ankles the other. "Gunnhild is better,"

  said Pouting Lips. It was true. But Hilda the Haughty was a superb piece of

  female flesh. In almost any market she would surely have drawn a high price. She

  struggled, held. She had a fair throat, good shoulders; she was marvelously

  breasted; her waist was such that one could get his hands on it well; she n~ight

  have been a bit broad in the beam but I had no objection to this; in the north

  it is called the love cradle; it was well adapted to cushion the shocks of an

  oarsman's pleasure; in the south she would have been said to be sweetly hipped;

  if the Forkbeard wished to breed her she would bear healthy, strong young to his

  thralls, enriching his ~arm; her thighs, too, were lovely, and her calves; her

  ankles, while not thick, as Pretty Ankles had asserted, were heavier than those

  of Thyri, or Pretty Ankles herse~; Hilda was, of course, a somewhat large~ girl;

  she was probably some five years oider than Pretty Ankles, and a year or so

  older than Thyri; Gunnhild was larger than Hilda; she was also, I ex~?ected,

  about a year or two older. I had no objection to Hilda's ankles; I found them

  quite lovely; they would take a common girlf~tter nicely, with about a quarter

  inch tolerance. Then Hilda stopped struggling and, held, head high, regarded the

  Forkbeard. He examined her with grloat care, as he had his Sa-Tarna, and his

  animals, when he had inspected his farm. He got up from his knees, where he had

  been feeling the 151 firmness of her left calf and ankle. Then he said to the

  bond-maids, "Take her to the whipping post. The bond-maids, laughing, dragged

  Hilda to the post, stout, of peeled wood, which stood outside the hall. Ottar

  then, with a scrap of binding fiber, crossed and rudely bound, before her body,

  the wrists of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar; he then, reaching up,

  fastened her wrists to the heavy iron ring over her head. Her breasts were

  against the post; she could not place her heels on the ground. "How dare you

  place me in this position, Ivar Forkbeard!" she demanded. "I am a free woman!"

  "Bring the five-strap slave slash," said Ivar Forkbeard to Gunnhild. "Yes, my

  Jarl," she said, smiling. She ran to fetch it. "I am the daughter of Thorgard of

  Scagnar," said Hilda. "Release me immediately." The lash was placed by Gunnhild

  in the hand of Ivar Forkbeard. Ottar threw the girl's hair forward, so that it

  fell before her shoulders. "No!" cried Hilda. The Forkbeard touched her back

  with the whip; his fist held the handle and, too, beneath his fist, folded back,

  were the five straps. He tapped her twice. "No!" she cried. "Please, no!" We

  fell back to give the Forkbeard room, and he shook loose the straps and drew

  back his arm. The first stroke threw her against the post; I saw the

  astonishrnent,~n her eyes, then the pain; the daughter of Thorgard seemed

  stunned; then she howled in misery; it was only then that she realized what the

  whip might do to a girl. "I will obey you!" she screamed. "I will obey you!"

  Ivar Forkbeard, experienced in the disciplining of women, did not deliver the

  second stroke for a full Ehn. In this time, she screamed, over and over, "I will

  obey you!" Then he struck again. Her body, again, was struck against the post;

  her hands twisted in the binding fiber; her entire body rubbed on 152 the post,

  in agony, pressing against it; tears burst from he eyes; she was on her tiptoes,

  pressing against the post; he~ thighs were on either side of the post; but the

  post did nol -yield; she was fastened to it. Then he struck again. Sh~ writhed,

  twisting and howling. 'sI ask only to obey you!" she cried. "I beg to obey you!"

  When he next struck she could only close her eyes in pain. She could then

  scarcely breathe. She gasped. No longer could she howl or scream. She tensed,

  teeth gritted, her body itself a silent scream of agony. But the blow did not

  then fall. Was the beating done~ Then she was struck again. The last five blows

  were de livered with her hanging in the binding fiber, her body against the

  post, her face to one side of it. She was then released from the post and fell

  to her hands and knees. The beating had been quite light, only twenty strokes.

  Yet I did not think it would be soon that the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar

  would wish to find herself again at the post. The beating had been, though

  light, quite adequate to its purpose, which was to teach her, a captive, the

  whip. No female forgets it. She looked up at the Forkbeard in misery. "Bring her

  clothing," said the Forkbeard. It was brought. "Garb yourself," said the

  Forkbeard. Painfully, almost unable to stand, tears in her eyes, inch by inch,

  the girl drew on her garments. She then stood there among us, bent over, tears

  staining her cheeks. She wore the dress of green velvet trimmed with gold, it

  torn from the collar, it ripped at the right side. She looked at him. "Remove

  your clothing," he said. She stripped herself. "Gather the clothing," said the

  Forkbeard. She dld so. "Go now to the kitchen of the hall," said he. "In th,e

  fi.re there, burn your clothing, completely." "Yes, Ivar Forkbeard," she said.

  "Gunnhild will accompany you," he said. "When you ~ 153 have burned your

  garments, every bit of them, then beg Gunnhild to set you about your duties."

  "What duties, my Jarl," asked Gunnhild. "Tonight we feast," said Ivar Forkbeard.

  "The feast must be prepared." "She is to help prepare the feast?" asked

  Gunnhild. "And ser
ve it," said the Forkbeard. "I see, then, the nature of her

  duties," said Gunnhild, smiling. "Yes," said Ivar Forkbeard. He regarded Hilda.

  "You will beg Gunnhild to set you about the duties of a bond-maid." "Yes," said

  she, "Ivar Forkbeard." "Hurry now," laughed he. Weeping, clutching her clothing,

  she ran to the hall. The men and bond-maids laughed muchly. I, too, roared with

  laughter. Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, had been taught to

  obey. The shrieking of Pouting Lips, as she yielded to Gorm, supine, kicking in

  the furs, rang through the low, smoking hall. I thrust Thyri from my lap, and

  seized Olga by the wrist, as she hurried past, throwing her across my knees.

  She, laughing, was fleeing Ottar who, drunkenly, was stumbling after her. I

  pulled Olga's face to mine and our lips met, I forcing my kiss to her teeth. Her

  naked body, collared, suddenly responded to mine, and she reached for me with

  her hands. "MyJarl!" she whispered. But I thrust her up, holding her by the

  arms, into the hands of Ottar, who, laughing, tbrew her lightly over his

  shoulder and turned about. I saw her head and shoulders, and her body, to the

  waist, over his shoulder, her small fists pounding meaninglessly on his back. He

  carried her into the darkness and threw her to the furs. "MyJarl," whimpered

  Thyri, crouching beside me, touching me. With a laugh, she crying out with

  pleasure, I took again the young lady of Kassau, the bond-maid, Thyri, in my

  arms. Pretty Ankles hurried past, carrying a great trencher of roast meat on her

  small shoulder. "Mead!" called Ivar Forkbeard, from across from me. "Mead!" He

  held out the great, curved horn, with its rim fillgreed gold. Pudding and

  Gunnhild knelt on the bench, snuggli~ against him, one on either side. But they

  did not run to fet~ his mead. That duty, this night, befell another. Hilda the

  Haughty, ~daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar, stripped as any bond-maid, from a

  large bronze vess~ poured mead for the Forkbeard. The men laughed. She, though

  free, poured mead as a bond-maid. The h~ roared with pleasure. Mighty insult had

  thus been wroug] upon Thorgard of Scagnar, enemy of Ivar Forkbeard. H daughter,

  stripped, poured mead in the hall of his enemie Too, they had taught her to heel

  and obey. Rich was tl pleasure of Ivar Forkbeard. He reached out his hand, to

 

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