Plunder of Gor

by Norman, John;

  “He spoiled my parasol!” she cried angrily. “For this, I hold you, Decius Albus, responsible.”

  She still clutched the shreds of the parasol in one hand, several of its spines now exposed, free from the silk.

  None of the other Kurii about rushed upon her.

  “Sword her, to the blade, strike her!” howled Decius Albus to a man at arms before the stands.

  “Noble one,” he cried, in protest. “She is a woman, a free woman!”

  “She has no Home Stone!” screamed Decius Albus, beside himself in fury. “Kill her!”

  “I will do so!” cried a soldier, whipping his sword from the sheath, and raising the weapon, but it fell, almost immediately, from a lost grip, as the man staggered back a foot or so, turned, and crumpled at the foot of the stands, the metal fins of a quarrel clearly visible, the bolt muchly buried in his chest.

  “They are armed!” cried a man.

  In the bit of time in which the Kur had advanced upon the free woman, had encountered the poisoned spines of the gay, bright-yellow parasol, and experienced the consequences of its indiscretion, the Kurlike thing near the stake had flung open the large, flat box, and Lord Grendel had seized out his ax, and Kurik, of Victoria, had had his foot in the stirrup of the stout bow, had drawn the cable, and set a quarrel into the guide. And in its rest, now, a new quarrel, like a poised bird of prey, like a cartridge in a rifle, lay in wait.

  Men drew back from those about the stake. None wished to be the first to die. Lord Grendel roared with pleasure, lifting the ax.

  “A shield, a shield!” cried Decius Albus, “and one, as well, for noble Lucilius!”

  The large Kur beside him in the box was crouched down, and the broad, double-edged blade of the Kur ax it bore was held across its body, before its chest, covering its heart. Its baleful eyes gleamed over the edge.

  Decius Albus drew back a yard in the box, turning white.

  The need for shields had not been anticipated.

  I now knew why my master had hoped that I might be able to reach the wagon. Surely it had been empty, as had been intended, upon our arrival at the feast, a situation that had been confirmed by suspicious guards, but it had been arranged, clearly, certainly not with my knowledge, for I was a slave, that the Lady Bina and Eve would make their way, in another wagon, to the scene of the “festivities.” There they would endeavor to place weapons in the wagon, to be retrieved, if necessary, and if possible, later. In this way Lord Grendel and Kurik might attend the feast in good faith, unarmed, and yet have at their disposal, in case of need, weaponry, should they or another, perhaps even a slave, be able to return to the wagon and retrieve the deposited weaponry. We had not been able to do so, of course. Then, when the weaponry was not retrieved, the Lady Bina and Eve, curious, uncertain as to whether the weaponry was needed or not, and fearing the worst, decided to investigate. Thus they had made their way toward the feast, to ascertain matters, and, if necessary, be of some assistance.

  “This quarrel, noble Albus,” cried Kurik of Victoria, “is for you! For its residence it would choose your heart! Order your men to throw down their weapons!”

  “Men, men!” cried Decius Albus, in terror.

  But a snarl of rage burst forth from the shaggy throat of Lucilius, and he, with a wide, violent, fierce, backward sweep of his long arm, struck Decius Albus back in the box, a blow that, I feared, might have broken his neck. The body of the trade advisor, in its robes, stained with the blood of Aelius, lay inert, at the back of the box. I did not know if he had survived the savageness of that blow or not. A stream of hideous Kur emanated from the box.

  “We are lost,” said Drusus Andronicus. “Your effort, while promising, was doomed from the beginning. On this field power is owned by the beasts.”

  From various translators about, wild cries and monstrous roars were transmitted noncommittally, as usual, as placid, emotion-free emanations. This made them, in its way, seem even more terrifying, as the most appalling and ghastly of execrations and threats were conveyed with the same colorless neutrality as the ticking of a watch. It seemed one’s fate lay at the mercy of a machine, one without the least awareness of, or interest in, what was ensuing. To be sure, even without translators, I think few would have been in doubt as to the significance, the intent and menace, of the affrighting sounds, and emotions and attitudes, about us.

  “Behold, men of glorious Ar, noble defenders of her walls, valiant holders of her gates,” cried Kurik, “the beast has struck your leader, your lord, the noble Decius Albus! The blow was treacherous, cruel, and unprovoked! What could be owed to such beasts but vengeance? Prove yourselves worthy of your fee. Strike blows for the noble Albus!”

  Men milled about. Kurii snarled.

  “It seems,” said Drusus Andronicus, “the noble Albus is not as beloved by his men as you supposed. Few, I suspect, would gladly rush to die for him. No such leader is he. It is not Decius Albus they serve, but his gold.”

  “Noble High Ones, Mighty Brothers,” called Lucilius, “will you be befooled by humans, will you waver in your loyalty to great Agamemnon, will you hesitate to be true to the meaning of your fangs and claws, will you be denied your pleasures, your sport? Behold the game clustered by the stake, vulnerable and ill-defended. Charge upon it, and it will scatter, screaming, and you may pursue it and feed upon it as you did other game, the verr. And who will earn prizes, who will seize the most meat? Be patient a moment. Our happy allies, the loyal servitors of the noble Decius Albus, with a hundred spears, will thrust aside any impediment to your hunt.” Lucilius then increased the volume on his translator, presumably that its message might carry throughout the field, even to the soldiers at the two manned perimeters. “Friends,” he called, “humans, astute and wise, skilled and loyal, beloved allies, you did note how I intervened to save the life of your lord, the great Decius Albus, how I, at great personal risk, thrust him aside, away from the line of a quarrel’s flight, just as he was about, boldly, at risk to his own life, to order you to attack enemies and traitors, the criminal Surtak, and others. Prepare now to do as he would have then had you do. Prepare now to do death to our common enemies!”

  “Meet me!” cried Surtak, lifting his ax.

  “Or I!” cried Lord Grendel.

  “What of the slaves?” called a man at arms.

  At this point, the Lady Bina, still clutching the shreds of the parasol, turned about, and joined us near the stake.

  “Tal,” she said.

  This salute was returned by Drusus Andronicus and Kurik, of Victoria.

  “Look at my parasol,” she said, ruefully.

  I trusted she would be careful with the spines of that lovely accessory.

  “You are brave to have come here, dear, noble lady,” said Kurik.

  “Not really,” she said. “I underestimated the danger. Had I to do it again, I would have given the matter more careful consideration.”

  “You may die here,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “Look at my parasol,” she said. “It is ruined.”

  “We must have our sport,” said Lucilius. “The noble Albus, your brave and hardy leader, so decreed.”

  I saw many men look at one another.

  But Ehn before, this matter had divided men, into those loyal to their fee and those listening to their blood, and what it told them of nature.

  “Kajirae,” cried Drusus Andronicus, “are to be bought and sold, owned and chained, they are to be worked, commanded, ravished and used, not fed to beasts, unless they are displeasing.”

  “Yes, yes,” said several men.

  “Discipline!” cried an officer. “Discipline!”

  Drusus Andronicus turned to Kurik. “There is division amongst the men,” he said, “as before.”

  “If the Kurii were wise,” said Kurik, his sword in his belt, the bow with its quarrel cradled in his arms, ca
sting a wary glance at Tyrtaios, the Assassin, who still stood to one side, some yards away, “they would forego their sport, and spare the kajirae.”

  “You do not know them, as I do,” said Drusus Andronicus. “Kajirae are muchly irrelevant here. It is now a matter of force, and of what is to be done, and why. The kajirae are now little more than symbolic. Who is to retreat, who is to yield, human or Kur? Whose will is to hold sway? The Kur cannot, and will not, yield.”

  “Then we are lost,” said Kurik.

  “My parasol is ruined,” said the Lady Bina.

  “Perhaps you can buy another,” said Drusus Andronicus, his eyes on the soldiers about.

  “Do you think so?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Are you annoyed?” she asked.

  “A bit,” he said.

  “Well, beware,” she said. “I am a free woman.”

  “Very well,” he said.

  She then cast a peremptory, rather contemptuous glance, at us, huddled together, pathetically, kajirae. We took care not to meet her eyes, those of a free woman. If a free person senses the least unwillingness, resistance, or insolence in us we can be punished, terribly. We are quickly taught our collars. We learn them well.

  “Kajirae,” she said, “who would want them?”

  “They sell nicely,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “Men are stupid,” she said.

  “It is pleasant,” said Kurik, “to have one curling about one’s feet, naked, collared, in sexual agony, her slave fires alit, begging to be used.”

  “Men,” she said, “I gather, would rather have them at their slave ring than fed to Kurii.”

  “I suspect so,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “Dear lady,” said Kurik, “with your permission, might you not be less distractive? We are about to be set upon by superior numbers.”

  “I would not give much for your chances,” she said.

  “Nor would I,” said Drusus Andronicus, impolitely I fear.

  “Remember,” she said, “I am a free woman.”

  “Forgive me,” he said.

  “If I were you,” she said, “I would choose a different field, and a different battle.”

  “We shall give the matter some thought,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “If you feel men are reluctant to go about slaughtering slaves,” she said, “why do you not take advantage of that?”

  “We tried,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “We failed,” said Kurik.

  “These fellows about,” she said, “do not appear to be regulars, not members of the common forces of Ar, not soldiers, not guardsmen.”

  “They are not,” said Drusus Andronicus. “These are members of the entourage of Decius Albus, armed retainers, consider their livery, contingents within a small, personal army, a private army, that of the trade advisor to the Ubar.”

  “They are then,” she said, “mercenaries.”

  “Yes,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “There you have it,” she said.

  “What?” asked Drusus Andronicus.

  “I shall solve your problem,” she said.

  “What problem?” asked Drusus Andronicus.

  “Survival,” she said.

  “I do not understand,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “Do not forget,” she said, “I am a free woman.”

  “I have been unable to do so,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  The Lady Bina regarded us, severely. We kept our eyes down.

  “Who here, meaningless, stripped beasts,” she inquired, “wants to be free?”

  “I, Mistress!” cried the former Lady Alexina, springing to her feet.

  “Well,” said the Lady Bina, “you are not going to be free. You are a slave, and you are going to stay a slave.”

  “Mistress!” protested Alexina, the former Lady Alexina.

  “Back on your knees, slave!” snapped the Lady Bina, and Alexina sank down, again, frightened, trembling, on her knees, amongst us. “You are all slaves,” said the Lady Bina, “nothing but slaves. I can tell by the collars, and your meaningless softness. You are fit for nothing but being owned by men.”

  “We are women, Mistress!” exclaimed a slave.

  “I have seldom seen,” said the Lady Bina, “a sorrier platter of collar meat. It is no wonder they want to feed you to beasts. I myself think you would well be bound and fed to urts.”

  The slaves regarded one another, wildly. I did not doubt but what many of them, as had been Paula, might have been purchased for as much as a golden tarsk. The slaves of Decius Albus were renowned about the city for their beauty.

  “Meaningless fluff,” said the Lady Bina, “vulos, tastas!”

  “Mercy, Mistress!” wept a slave.

  It is not easy for a slave to please a free woman. They hate us. No matter how hard we try to be pleasing, it is never enough. They are not pleased. They are never pleased. Why do they hate us so? We are so at their mercy!

  “We cannot help what we are, Mistress,” wept a slave. “We are collared!”

  “You are not a slave because you are collared,” said the Lady Bina. “You are collared because you are a slave.”

  I supposed there were many slaves who had never been collared. And I supposed there were many, not collared, who longed for their collars.

  “Seductive little brutes,” said the Lady Bina, “I have seen you in the markets, chained on the selling shelves, reaching through the bars of your cages, smiling, calling out, trying to interest men.”

  We lived in terror of being owned by a woman. We knew ourselves the rightful properties of men.

  “What can men possibly see in you?” said the Lady Bina.

  From the box Lucilius was roaring. Kurii were inching closer, wary of the axes of Surtak and Lord Grendel. Spears were leveled, swords grasped more securely. Some of the men I sensed were with us, those who would protect the kajirae, but more, by many it seemed, were ready to close and attack. I did not think it had been wise for the Lady Bina to acknowledge her lack of a Home Stone, and, in particular, her lack of that of Ar. I had the sense, rather as when a dam is threatened, that war, long expected, might suddenly burst in upon us.

  The Lady Bina then turned away from us, and addressed those about. “Back up, fellows,” she said. “Put up your spears, lower your swords. I have something to say to you, and it will not take long. You may then, if you wish, do as you please, drenching the field in blood, cutting one another to pieces, and so on. That is not of great interest to me. I leave it to you. That is man business. First, as I understand it, none of you, even those of you, most of you, it seems, who will obey orders, no matter how stupid and ridiculous, to the death, are enthusiastic about the prospect of having certain vulos in the vicinity fed to unpleasant, ravening beasts. Who knows, if it came to that, you might even object. If I am mistaken in this matter, correct me. I thought so.” One Kur crept closer to the Lady Bina, but she lifted her parasol, several exposed spines forward, and it slunk back. “So, second,” she said, “I have a counterproposal, one that the noble Decius Albus, to whom you owe your fee fealty, would find congenial, indeed, one he would, if able, embrace with enthusiasm.”

  “What is that?” asked an officer.

  “The girl raffle,” said the Lady Bina.

  “I do not understand,” said the officer.

  “It is quite simple,” said the Lady Bina, “his life or the girl raffle.”

  “Surely you can present this matter more clearly,” said another officer.

  “Certainly,” said the Lady Bina, “I am a free woman. I am assuming, one, that the noble and beloved Decius Albus is not currently conscious—”

  “He may be dead,” said a fellow.

  “And two,” said the Lady Bina, “that if he were conscious, he would pref
er to live.”

  “Plausible,” said an officer.

  “Therefore a certain decision must be made for him,” said the Lady Bina, “one we would expect him to make for himself, were he able, namely, his life or the girl raffle.”

  “But he is in no danger,” said an officer.

  “He is in great danger,” said the Lady Bina. “Consider a desperate assault on the box of honor, where the noble Albus lies helpless, unconscious, unable to either flee or defend himself, an assault by several assailants. Surely at least one fellow, from one direction or another, could reach him, and deprive the Ubar of a trade advisor.”

  “Such an assault might fail,” said the first officer.

  “True,” said the Lady Bina, “but I do not think the noble Albus could count on that. Remember, we must make this decision for him. Do you think he would risk it?”

  “No,” said Drusus Andronicus.

  “A hundred men would defend him!” said a second officer.

  “How many of you fellows,” asked the Lady Bina, “would gladly sell your life to defend Decius Albus?”

  Clearly the response was less than overwhelming.

  “Kurii may be wary of my parasol,” she said, “and we must consider the blows of two axes, the quarrels of a crossbow, the swords and spears of several fellows who would rather get their hands on kajirae than feed them to monsters, and so on.”

  “Is the point not clear?” asked Drusus Andronicus.

  “It is,” said a man.

  “The matter is then settled,” said the Lady Bina. “Decius Albus, for considerations thoroughly satisfactory to himself, puts up a number of his properties for prizes, in a girl raffle.”

  “How does this proceed?” asked a fellow.

  “Unfortunately,” said the Lady Bina, “there are far more men at arms here than there are slaves, so one must have a raffle, but each of you may hope to be lucky. If there are two hundred fellows, say, who wish to participate, though you are under no obligation to do so, we will put two hundred numbers on slips of paper in a helmet, and give each fellow a slip of paper with a number. Then, we will draw one number after another. When your number is drawn, you may have your pick of the kajirae who have not yet been selected.”