Norman, John - Gor 23 - Renegades of Gor.txt

by Renegades of Gor [lit]

  flotilla of sails, long and low, triangular, sloping, those of lateen-rigged

  galleys.

  “They are coming for the kill,” said a man.

  “Where is a glass,” I cried, “a builder’s glass, a glass of the builders!”

  Even as we watched we saw the sail of the first ship furled (pg.344) to its

  sloping yard and the yard swung, parallel to the keel, and lowered. In a moment

  the mast, too, had been lifted, and lowered. The other ships followed suit. The

  hair on the back of my neck rose. These are preparations of galleys for entering

  battle. They would not be under oar power along. It was hard now to even see the

  ships at the distance. Those were not round ships. They were long ships,

  ramships. They were shallow drafted, low, like knives in the water.

  “Bring me a glass!” I cried.

  “A glass!” called more than one man.

  “One of the ships of Cos is putting about,” said a man.

  “I do not understand,” said another.

  “See them come,” said another fellow.

  “How many are there?” said another.

  “Where could Cos find such ships?” asked another.

  “The Cosians on the rafts and boats are approaching,” said another. “In a moment

  they will open fire.”

  We saw a tarnsman streaking by, coming from the direction of the river, in

  flight over the piers, speeding toward the landing, or the citadel.

  “Shields to the edges of the piers!” called out Sirilius. He had drawn his

  sword.

  Women and children huddled toward the center of the piers, crouching down. Many

  of the women had their heads down, clutching children, shielding them with their

  own bodies. There was very little noise.

  “Here is a glass,” said a fellow. I lifted the apparatus to my eye. In a moment

  or two I had adjusted it, and had it trained on the flagship of the approaching

  flotilla. I sought the flag tugging and snapping on the stem line, run between

  the bow and the stem castle. Then I lowered the glass, closing it.

  “What are their colors?” asked a man.

  “It is the blue of Cos,” I said.

  I saw Surilius, grasping his sword, look down at the unconscious figure of

  Aemilianus.

  “Cos does not have such force on the river,” said a man.

  “Look at the fellows on the rafts out there,” said another fellow.

  “They seem to be in great agitation,” said a man.

  “May I look?” asked a fellow.

  (pg.345) I handed him the glass.

  Quickly he looked out at the mouth of the harbor. The ships were closer now. Now

  one could clearly see the blue fluttering at the stem line of the flagship.

  “That is not the flag of Cos!” he cried.

  “Surely then it is variant of the flag of Cos,” I said, “perhaps the flag of

  their forces on the river.”

  “It is the flag of Port Cos!” he cried. “It is the flag of Port Cos!”

  “The flag of Port Cos!” cried others.

  “What does it matter, then? I asked. “Port Cos is a colony of Cos, the very

  citadel of her power on the Vosk.”

  “The topaz!” cried a man.

  “The topaz! The topaz!” cried others, hundreds of voices.

  Surilius was shaking Aemilianus, trying to arouse him. Tears were flowing from

  his eyes. “The topaz!” he cried to Aemilianus. “Marcus got through! It is

  Calliodorus, of Port Cos! It is the pledge of the topaz!”

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  Suddenly I saw the flagship, knifing through an opening in the chain of rafts,

  literally sheer oars from the side of the Cosian ship put about in the harbor. I

  then saw another Cosian ship rammed amidships. The other three Cosian ships were

  trying to make a landfall at the sides of the harbor. I saw one run aground

  there, by a guard station. The fellows at the rafts were trying to close the

  chains, to close the harbor. I then saw four or five of the ram ships, their

  bows high, the rams out of the water, dripping water into the harbor, literally

  ride over, scraping and sliding, the rafts, and plunge into the harbor. The

  crews of the other two Cosian ships which had been in the harbor, those not

  injured, and not run aground, leapt over the sides, and, waist deep, waded to

  shore. I saw some other ships draw alongside the chains, and men swarm out onto

  the rafts. The Cosians that had been there fled before them. There remained the

  three openings, then, in the chain of rafts. Indeed, two trains of rafts now

  floated untethered in the harbor, and the other two trains floated loose,

  fastened only at one end, each still fastened to great pilings driven into the

  sand near guard stations, one on each side of the harbor. Out in the harbor

  itself the small boats and rafts of Cosians which had been approaching to attack

  were now hurrying to (pg.346) the shore, to one side or another, to take shelter

  near the most convenient guard station. One ship after another of the newcomers

  entered the harbor. The flagship, even now, was easing itself against the outer

  pier.

  “I do not understand what is going on,” I said. “What is all this about a

  topaz?”

  “You are then indeed a stranger to Ar’s Station, and to the river,” said a

  fellow. “The pledge of the topaz was originally an agreement between river

  pirates, a pledge of mutual assistance and, in crisis, alliance, between them,

  those of the eastern and western Vosk, between Policrates in the east and Ragnar

  Voskjard in the west. When the ports of the river, and their men, rose up

  against the predations, the tolls and tributes, of these pirates, the topaz fell

  into the hands of the victorious rebels. From such fighting came the formation

  of the Vosk League.”

  I knew something of the Vosk League. Its headquarters was in the town of

  Victoria, on the northern back of the Vosk, between Fina and Tafa. Due to its

  patrols and presence piracy, and certainly large-scale, institutionalized

  piracy, had been largely removed from the Vosk, from east of White Water, near

  Lara, a town of the Salarina Confederation at the confluence of the Vosk and

  Olni, to the delta.

  “But a topaz is a stone,” I said, “a kind of semiprecious stone.”

  “And such a stone is the symbol of the pledge,” said the fellow. “It was

  originally a quite unusual stone, one which bore in its markings and coloration

  a remarkable configuration, that of a river galley. The stone was broken,

  however, into two pieces. One does not see the ship in the separate parts of the

  stone for the isolated marks and colorings seem meaningless. When the parts are

  joined, however, the ship appears. One part of the stone was originally held by

  Ragnar Voskjard, chief of pirates in the west, and the other by Policrates,

  chief of pirates in the east. Each, when in need of counsel or support, would

  send his part of the stone to the other. They would then join forces.”

  “What has the topaz to do with the Vosk League?�
�€ I asked.

  “It has nothing to do with the Vosk League itself,” said (pg.347) the fellow.

  “It is now a private pledge between Port Cos and Ar’s Station.”

  “But the sympathies of Port Cos are surely with her mother ubarate,” I said,

  “and those of Ar’s Station with Ar.”

  I could see several galleys now drawing up at the piers. Men with shields leapt

  from them to the piers, hurrying to the sides facing the inner harbor. Cosians

  attempting to climb to the piers there would encounter fresh, dangerous armed

  me, in hundreds.”

  “Both Port Cos and Ar’s Station fought on the river, in terrible and bloody

  battles, hull to hull. After the final victory over the pirates, which took

  place at Victoria in 10,127 C.A., the parts of the stone came into the keeping

  of Calliodorus, at that time acting first captain in Port Cos, and Aemilianus,

  who was at that time commander of the naval forces of Ar’s Station. The pledge

  was renewed privately between them, I think, as comrades in arms, as Ar’s

  Station was not permitted by Ar to join the Vosk League.”

  “Why was that?” I asked.

  “I do not know,” he said. “It is speculated that Ar feared such an alliance

  would compromise her claims in the Vosk Basin.”

  I nodded. That made sense to me. I had suspected as much earlier. The fellow,

  incidentally, had given the year of the aforementioned battle as 10,127 C.A. It

  was natural that he, of Ar’s Station, would give the date in the chronology of

  Ar. Different cities, perhaps in their vanity, or perhaps simply in accord with

  their own traditions, often have their own chronologies, based on Administrator

  Lists, and such. A result of this is that there is little uniformity in Gorean

  chronology. The same year, in the chronology of Port Kar, if it is of interest,

  would have been Year 8 of the Sovereignty of the Council of Captains. The reform

  of chronology is proposed by a small party from among the castes of scribes

  almost ever year at the Fair of En’Kara, near the Sardar, but their proposals,

  sensible as they might seem, are seldom greeted with either interest or

  enthusiasm, even by the scribes. Perhaps that is because the reconciliation and

  coordination of chronologies, like the diction and convolutions of the law, are

  regarded as scribal prerogatives.

  “That is the Tais,” said a fellow, pointing to the flagship (pg.348) of the

  newly arrived ships. “I would know it anywhere!” It was being moored at the

  pier. Its captain, who had been standing on the stern castle, issuing orders,

  now descended the steps, past the posts of the two helmsmen. In a moment,

  vaulting over the rail like a common seaman, he had disembarked. He was hatless

  and helmetless. A young fellow followed him. I recalled him from the audience

  chamber in the citadel. He was, I took it, the young warrior, Marcus. Men were

  cheering. Men clutched at them as they sought to make their way through the

  crowd. I saw them reaching out to touch even the swirling cloak of the captain.

  “Where is Aemilianus?” called the captain. In his hand, uplifted, about half the

  size of a fist, the sun catching its polished surface, was a yellowish stone,

  marked with brown. Men, seeing it, wept and cried out.

  “Surely there are more ships there than would have been sent by Port Cos,” said

  a man.

  “Do not speak of them,” whispered another.

  His caution puzzled me.

  To be sure, there must have been twenty-five ships in the outer harbor now,

  several of which had drawn up to the piers. On planks set out to the piers I saw

  women and children being ushered aboard.

  I went to the inner side of the pier, that facing the inner harbor. There was a

  line of men there, come from the ships. They crouched there, with overlapping

  shields, their swords drawn. I would not have cared to essay the climb to the

  pier.

  The captain and the young fellow, Marcus, made their way to the side of

  Aemilianus. He was sitting up, held by Surilius.

  I stepped back a little, toward the center of the pier, that I might observe

  them. Then I was close to them. Men had made way for me.

  The captain, whose name I had gathered was Calliodorus, he who had apparently

  fought long ago with Aemilianus on the river, when both were lesser officers,

  crouched beside him. He pressed the piece of stone he had brought with him into

  his hands. Aemilianus held it, tears in his eyes. Calliodorus then, as men

  observed, removed from his own pouch a similar stone. He then, steadying the

  stone in the hand of Aemilianus, who could scarcely hold it, fitted the two

  stones together. I was startled, for no sooner had the two pieces of (pg.349)

  stone been fitted together than it seemed there suddenly emerged, as now from a

  single stone, unriven, the image of a galley.

  The fellow beside me was crying.

  I saw a blond slave, thin and in rags, dare to crawl among the legs of free men,

  to lie on her stomach near Aemilianus. She put out her fingers to touch his leg.

  She, too, was weeping. It was she who had been called “Shirley,” whom I had seen

  in the audience chamber of the citadel long ago. I recalled she had been ordered

  to remind him to whip her the same night, for having dared to look upon me, when

  I had been brought in, as a prisoner. Doubtless she had done so, and had

  received her whipping. She lay at his side, humbly. How helplessly was she his

  slave! I thought she would be luscious, when fattened up, for love.

  Calliodorus put the hands of Aemilianus on the stone, and placed his own hands

  over them. Their hands were then together, over the two joined halves of the

  stone, the topaz.

  “The pledge is redeemed,” he said.

  “My thanks, Commander,” said Aemilianus, softly.

  “It is nothing, Commander,” said Calliodorus.

  Women and children were still boarding galleys. I heard the trumpets of recall

  from the landing. The small boats, and the rafts, in the inner harbor, turned

  about then, and began to withdraw to the landing. I saw the standard of Cos

  removed from the walkway. Not a quarrel had been fired.

  “It took me days to reach Port Cos,” said the young man, Marcus. “I was pursued

  closely. Once I was captured. I escaped. I moved at night. I hid in swamps. I am

  sorry.”

  Aemilianus lifted his hand to him, and weakly grasped it. “You reached Port

  Cos,” he said.

  “It took us time to fit and rig the ships,” said Calliodorus. “I am sorry.”

  “Such things cannot be done in a moment,” said Aemilianus.

  “There was no problem with the crew calls,” said Calliodorus. “Volunteers

  abounded. Indeed, there is no man with me who was not a volunteer. We had to

  turn men away. Most of these with me fought with us against Policrates and

  Voskjard.”

  Aemilianus smiled. “Good,” he said.

  (pg.350) “So far west on the river,” said Calliodorus, “we had not realized your

  straits were
so desperate.”

  That interested me. The major land forces of Ar, I had gathered, were somewhere

  in the west, south of the river. I wagered that the men there, those in the

  ranks there, at least, were no better informed than, apparently, had been those

  of Port Cos. There had been no dearth of intelligence as to the desperate

  situation of Ar’s Station, however, in this vicinity, east on the river, and

  south towards Ar.

  “How many ships have you?” asked Aemilianus, a commander’s question.

  “We have brought ten from Port Cos,” said Calliodorus, smiling, “but as we came

  upriver it seemed some unidentified ships joined us, from here and there.”

  “Unidentified?” smiled Aemilianus. “From here and there?”

  “Yes,” said Calliodorus, smiling, and speaking very clearly. “They are

  unidentified, absolutely. We do not know where they came from, nor what might be

  their home ports.”

  “How many of these came with you?” asked Aemilianus.

  “Fifteen,” said Calliodorus.

  “These ships would not be under the command of one called Jason, of Victoria?”

  smiled Aemilianus.

  “I certainly could not be expected to know anything of that sort,” said

  Calliodorus.

  “Praise the Vosk League!” said a man.

  “Glory to the Vosk League!” whispered another man.

  “It must be clearly understood by all,” said Calliodorus, standing up, smiling,

  putting his half of the topaz into his pouch, “that the Vosk League, a neutral

  force on the river, one devoted merely to the task of maintaining law and order

  on the river, is certainly in no way involved in this operation.”

  “Glory to the Vosk League,” said more than one man.

  I moved away from the crowd about Aemilianus and walked along the outer edge of

  the piers. I did count twenty-five ships at the piers, and out in the harbor.

  Ten of these flew the blue flag I had taken for that of Cos, or that serving for

  Cos on the river. From the stem lines of fifteen of the ships, as far as I could

  tell, for some were out in the harbor, and blocked by others, there flew no

  colors at all. Indeed, interestingly, as I walked along the piers I saw that