by John Norman
“The idea is preposterous,” scoffed Hendrix.
“Are not the Wolfungs an acknowledged tribe of the Vandals,” asked Otto, “one whose legitimacy is unquestioned?”
“Ah,” said Hendrix, softly.
“Who are the Ortungs?” asked Otto. “Do they exist?”
“In such a way, before all the Alemanni, and in the eyes of all the barbarian tribes, one might perhaps establish the legitimacy of the secession,” said Gundlicht.
“Certainly,” said Otto. “If the Wolfungs, of the Vandals, recognize the Ortungs as a legitimate tribe of the Alemanni, who could, with any plausibility, decline to do so?”
“You tempt us,” said Hendrix.
“Convey the challenge,” said Otto.
“No,” said Hendrix.
“In honor, how can you refuse to convey the challenge?” asked Otto.
“In honor, we cannot convey it,” said Hendrix, rather regretfully.
“How is that?” inquired Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs.
“No provocation could be adequate to justify accepting such a challenge,” said Hendrix.
“Axel,” said Otto.
Axel then brought forth a bundle.
Otto took it from him, and opened it. He carefully took, in one hand, the jewelry, the necklaces and bracelets which were within it, and held them up, dangling, to view. He then, retaining the jewelry in one hand, took the garments in two hands, the one holding the jewelry, the other free, and shook them out, displaying them.
“You recognize these?” he asked.
“That is the jewelry, those are the robes, of the princess, Gerune!” exclaimed Hendrix.
“I put them upon a slave, on the Alaria , that slave!” said Otto, indicating Janina, who shrank back, beside the trench in the hut floor, not at all pleased with the turn events were taking.
“You dared to put such garments upon a slave!” cried Hendrix, in fury.
“Is it true, mere slave?” asked Otto of Janina.
“Yes, Master!” she cried, in misery.
“On a branded slut?” asked Hendrix.
“Yes!” said Otto. “And the princess Gerune herself I marched before me, naked and gagged, and bound, on a rope, through corridor after corridor of the Alaria , exhibiting her, as one might a slave, before hundreds of the warriors of Ortog!”
“No!” cried Hendrix.
“Surely,” said Otto, “you have heard secret whisperings of these things in your halls, in your drinking places, in your hangars, on your ships. Surely they are whispered even by your ship slaves.”
Hendrix and Gundlicht exchanged glances.
“Take these things to Ortog,” said Otto, bundling them. “Let them serve as witness to the truth of what I say. Too, tell him that his sister looks better without them, as I have seen her several times, kneeling at my feet.”
“Dog!” cried Hendrix.
Otto cast the bundle of jewelry and clothing, wadded, and soiled, into the arms of Hendrix.
“Convey the challenge!” said Otto.
“It will be conveyed!” cried Hendrix.
“And convey as well my greetings to the princess Gerune,” said Otto. “And tell her that I did not think her body would be entirely displeasing as that of a slave, and that I may one day have her as such at my feet.”
“Dog! Dog!” wept Gundlicht.
He took a step forward, but Wolfungs interposed themselves.
“Come, Gundlicht,” said Hendrix. “Insults such as these are best answered in the ancient way, with steel.”
They then turned on their heels, and left.
“Have you not forgotten your tribute?” called a man after them, from outside.
“It is done,” said Astubux.
“Are you a dog?” smiled Axel.
“Once,” said Otto, “but I am now Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs.”
“They can destroy the world,” said Astubux.
“That would not avenge the insult,” said Otto.
“No,” said Axel. “That would be insufficient to avenge the insult.”
…CHAPTER 22…
“The forests are quite beautiful,” said Julian.
He, the chieftain, Astubux and Axel, and four slaves, who had been brought to carry food and drink, had climbed to the top of the high, wide rock whence, several days ago, the chieftain, then a mere fighter, a gladiator, and a slave, Janina, and Astubux and Axel, and certain others of the Wolfungs, had watched the sign of the Ortungs being burned into the forest. One could still see the tracks of the ravaging of the forest, where it bore, still, like a brand, the mark of the Ortungs.
Otto, the chieftain, looked up, into the blue sky, filled with clouds.
“We have heard nothing for several days,” he said.
“No,” said Astubux.
“I wonder if your signal was heard,” said Otto to Julian.
“It was transmitted, I am certain,” said Julian. “One does not know.”
“It was quiet,” said Astubux. “I did not hear it.”
“The hearing of the imperial fleet, and of the Drisriaks, may be keener,” said Julian.
Astubux shrugged.
“Leave us,” said Otto.
He and Julian then remained on the summit of the rock.
“Should the imperial fleet arrive,” said Otto to Julian, “you are free, of course, to go.”
Julian nodded.
“The slaves, of course, will remain,” said Otto.
“Of course,” said Julian. “They are slaves. We know the law.”
“The empire is wondrous,” said Otto. “I stand in awe of it.”
“It extends over galaxies,” said Julian. “It is the most magnificent invention of all time.”
Otto was silent.
“It must not be lost,” said Julian.
“It is eternal,” said Otto. “It has always been, and will always be.”
“There was a time before the empire,” said Julian. “My family was there, long ago, at the beginning.”
“You love the empire,” said Otto.
“It is threatened,” said Julian.
“The empire is invincible,” said Otto.
“It must be defended.”
“Surely it is in no danger,” said Otto.
“Men must be found, fearless men, true men,” said Julian, “to defend it.”
“It needs no defense,” said Otto.”
“Barbarians are outside, threatening her,” said Julian. “The men of the empire accept her privileges, her luxuries, but decline their responsibilities, their duties.”
“Men will be found to defend her,” said Otto.
“There must be men capable of facing barbarians, of standing up to them,” said Julian, “men as ruthless, as terrible, as implacable as the foe itself.”
“Barbarians to fight barbarians?” asked Otto.
“Who will fight for the empire, not against it,” said Julian.
“You would bring in wolves to protect sheep?” asked Otto.
“It is a gamble,” said Julian. “I see no other way. The sheep cannot protect themselves.”
“Why are you speaking to me in this fashion?” asked Otto.
“Ortog thought you an Otung, on the Alaria ,” said Julian.
“Yes,” said the Chieftain.
“I am curious to know who you are,” said Julian. “Surely you are curious, as well.”
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Otungs, of the Vandals, over a generation ago,” said Julian, “were defeated, for the third time, in the eighteenth imperial war, during the reign of Halban. Most were destroyed in the war. The remnants, captured, were disarmed and scattered about galaxies. The survivors of the fiercest and most dangerous of the Otung clans, the Elbi, were settled on a remote, perilous world.”
“For what purpose?”
“To raise crops for the empire,” said Julian. “Is it not amusing, that the hands of warriors, hands that knew the spear and sword, would now be set to the
hoe and plow, to raise food for the worlds of their conquerors?”
“No,” said Otto.
“But I have reason to believe that these people, if they have survived, and certainly the other remnants, as well, have maintained an oral tradition, in which they sing their history, and the deeds of their heroes.”
“They have not forgotten themselves?”
“No,” said Julian.
“Interesting,” said Otto.
“I wonder if we will emerge from this alive,” said Julian, studying the sky.
“I do not know,” said Otto.
“The Alemanni are numerous,” said Julian. “The empire fears them.”
“The empire need fear no one,” said Otto.
“Do you know what the Alemanni are called within the empire?” asked Julian.
“No,” said Otto.
“The Aatii,” he said.
“I did not know that,” said Otto.
“On the Alaria ,” said Julian, “you defeated Ortog, a Drisriak, of the Aatii, the Alemanni.”
“He will not fight again,” said Otto. “He will select a champion. The champion will choose weapons with which I am not familiar.”
“But you defeated Ortog, in personal combat, with steel,” said Julian. “That is the sort of thing barbarians understand, and respect. It means more to them than watching screens and fighting at distances of thousands of miles apart.”
Otto shrugged. What the citizen of the empire had observed was undoubtedly true.
“From where do you come?” asked Julian.
“From a small festung village, that of Sim Giadini, on the heights of Barrionuevo,” said Otto.
“On what world?” asked Julian.
“Tangara,” said Otto.
“That is the world,” said Julian, “to which the remnants of the fiercest and most dangerous of the Otungs, the Elbi, were exiled.”
“Interesting,” said Otto.
“Indeed,” said Julian, “it was to that world that the very king of the Otungs himself was exiled, who was of the Elbi.”
“Interesting,” said Otto.
“If we should survive what is to come, I would like to go there with you,” said Julian, “to learn who you are.”
“Why?” asked Otto.
“The empire may have need of men such as you,” said Julian.
“But what if I should be an Otung, a Vandal?” asked Otto.
“It is my hope that that is what you are.”
“Brother Benjamin, of the festung of Sim Giadini,” said Otto, slowly, “may know something of my origins.”
“That is a clue,” said Julian.
The two men then descended from the high rock and rejoined the others, at its base.
The men, with the exception of Julian, of the Aurelianii, the ensign, wore pelts. Julian wore a rough tunic, as before, of cloth. The three slaves all now wore long cloth dresses, much like those worn by the Wolfung women. The dresses, however, were sleeveless, that their lovely, rounded arms might be displayed. They were, after all, slaves. Each had hung about her neck, fastened there on a string, a disk, on which was inscribed the sign of her master. These disks were round, and of leather, and the string which supported them was of leather, as well. Each disk was pierced once, and in the piercing there was a tiny leather loop. It was through this loop that the string was run. In this way the disk hung evenly at the base of the throat. It was easy to lift the disk and see the sign. Their feet were wrapped in rags, to protect them from the needles of the forest, and the stones.
“You may go ahead,” said Otto.
Axel and Astubux, and Julian, turned their steps toward the village. Axel was heeled by a strikingly well-figured woman, his slave, Oona, and Astubux by an exciting, slender blond slave whose name was Ellen. These slaves heeled their masters perhaps somewhat more closely than was necessary, but they desired to be close to them. Both were burdened, each carrying on her back certain objects, supported there with an arrangement of straps, containers in which food and drink had been brought, rolled cloaks, and such, things with which the masters did not care to inconvenience themselves, their hands being left free for the use of weapons. When the men had fed they had been served by the slaves. The slaves, though serving the food, were forbidden to touch it themselves. They might, however, take it from the hands of their masters. Three of them, Oona, Ellen and Janina, were thusly fed by hand, drink, too, being held for them by their masters. One, an unnamed brunette, knelt to one side. Her master, from time to time, when it occurred to him, would toss a bit of food to the grass before her, which she must take, touching it only with her mouth. A pan of water was also set forth for her, which, too, she must not touch with her hands. “Thus does a bitch eat and drink,” she was told. “Yes, Master,” she had said.
Exquisite, beautiful, trained Janina went on for a little way, but then stopped, some yards away, and waited.
Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs, looked down on one of his slaves.
“Prepare to bear your burden,” he said.
“Master!” she begged.
“Perhaps you are overdressed?” he asked.
She looked up at him, in agony. Often, in the privacy of his hut, and even publicly, when she had served table, and men feasted, she had been stripped.
“I enjoy seeing you, and your brand, slave,” he had sometimes said.
“Yes, Master,” she had said.
How far away was Terennia!
And how great the gulf between the slave and free!
But in all the cruelty, and all the contempt, he had shown her, he had never touched her, save to administer an occasional blow, or reprimand, usually with the back of his hand.
At night she was returned to her cage, though she was now permitted a blanket.
“What is wrong?” he asked, for tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“You have not touched me,” she said. “I am a slave. I am now only a helpless slave! I would be touched!”
He regarded her.
“I beg mercy, Master!” she said.
He did not speak.
“I am not what I was. Surely you must understand that!” she wept. “I am now only a slave, your slave. I beg to be taken in the arms of my master!”
He did not speak.
“Is that not a purpose to which a slave is to be put?” she asked.
He did not speak.
“I am hot, and lonely, and in need. I am on fire with the love of my master, and he will not deign to touch me, save to strike me!”
He did not speak.
“You have not even named me!”
“True,” he said.
“I would be named,” she said.
“You have not earned a name,” he said.
“Give me an opportunity to earn a name, Master,” she begged.
He turned away from her.
“Bear your burden,” he said, not looking at her.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
He went down the trail, and was followed by Janina.
The nameless slave, weeping, then fixed her burden on her back, and held it there, by the straps. Then she hurried after the party, which was already some yards down the trail.
Overhead the sky, as of now, was clear.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by John Norman
Cover design by Andy Ross
978-1-4804-9954-6
Published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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