My keeper put a rope on my neck and then freed me from the harness.
The raft was thrust up, on a small bar, that it not drift away.
"Precede me," he said, pointing forward.
I went before him, through the rence. In a few yards we had come to the side of the low, covered barge. Many men were standing about, in the water. Too, there were now many of their small craft about, brought from the rear. The barge was aground, tipped, on a sand bar. In another Ahn, or with a change of wind, and current, it might be swept free.
"Come aboard," said the officer, now on the barge.
I looked up at him, over the gag.
I was pushed forward. Men reached down from the barge. Others, in the water, thrust me up. I was seized beneath the arms and drawn aboard. My keeper, my leash in his grasp, clambered aboard, after me.
On the deck of the barge, toward the stern, I could see that the small, slatted windows on the port side of the barge had been burst in. The door aft, leading down two or three steps to the interior of the cabin, hung awry.
The captain looked up at me.
I knelt.
"Remove his gag," he said.
This was done, and wrapped about the leather strap looped twice about my neck, that threaded through the center hole in the yoke, behind my neck. It felt good to get the heavy, sodden wadding out of my mouth.
"Some think you know the delta," he said to me.
"I am not a rencer," I said. "It is they, if any, who know the delta. I am of Port Kar."
"But you have been in the delta before," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"Have you seen barges of this sort before?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. "Of course."
"Wrap his leash about the yoke," said the officer to my keeper. "I will take charge of him."
The keeper wrapped the rope leash about the yoke, behind my arm.
"Come with me," said the officer.
I rose to my feet. This can be difficult to do in a heavy yoke, a punishment yoke, but was not difficult in the lighter yoke, a work yoke, which I wore. I put down my head, and followed the officer through the small door and down the two stairs, to the interior of the cabin. His mien made it clear that others were not to follow.
The cabin was not completely dark, as the windows at the sides had been broken in. Some, perhaps, might have been broken before. But I had little doubt that it was due to the men of Ar, themselves, in the vigor of their attack, that others had been destroyed, and that the door in the back, that awry in the threshold, through which we had entered, had been broken. I looked about the half-dark interior of the large, low-roofed cabin.
"A great victory," I commented.
The cabin was, in effect, empty, save for some benches and other paraphernalia. To be sure, there was some debris about, much dust. There was no sign that the area had been recently occupied.
"I do not understand it," said the officer to me.
I did not respond.
"Where are the Cosians?" he asked me.
"Did you question the crew?" I asked.
"There was no crew," he said, angrily.
I was again silent. I had not thought that there would have been. If there had been, it was not likely the barge would be still aground, particularly with pursuers in the vicinity. The men of Ar, of course, were moving during the day, and in numbers. Too, they were strangers to the delta. They did not move with the silence, the stealth, of rencers.
"There may have been a crew," said the officer. "They may not have had time to free it of the bar."
"But there is little evidence that there has been a crew here for some time," I observed. To be sure, perhaps some fellows had poled it from time to time, earlier. But there was little evidence, as far as I could tell, of even that, certainly not in the cabin itself.
"Where are the Cosians?" he demanded.
I looked about the dusty, half-lit cabin. "It seems not here," I said.
"We have pursued this barge for days," said he, angrily. "Now we have closed with it. And it is empty!"
"It is my surmise," I said, "that it has been empty for weeks."
"Impossible!" he said.
"I suspect it is simply an abandoned barge," I said. "Such are not unknown in the delta."
"No," said he, "it is a vessel of the Cosian rear guard!"
"Perhaps," I said.
"Or one of their transports, straggling, abandoned!"
"Perhaps," I granted him.
He went to one of the small windows, and looked out, angrily.
"It would seem, however, would it not," I asked, "to be an unlikely choice for a troop transport?"
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"You are not of this part of the country," I said, "not from the delta, or the Vosk, or Port Kar," I said.
"I do not understand," he said.
"Examine the window before you, its screen," I said.
He looked at the apparatus, burst in, hanging loose.
"Yes?" he said.
"Consider the position of the opening lever," I said.
"Yes!" he said.
"The window could not be opened from the inside," I said. "Only from the outside."
"Yes," he said.
"Also, in this particular barge," I said, "given the depth of the cabin floor, one could not, sitting, look directly out the windows, even if they were opened. One, at best, would be likely to see only a patch of sky."
"I see," he said, glumly.
"And if the shutters were closed," I said, "the interior of the cabin would be, for the most part, plunged into darkness. Too, you can well imagine the conditions within the cabin, the heat, and such, if the shutters were closed."
"Of course," he said.
"Examine, too," I said, "the benches here, within, where they are still in place."
"I see," he said, bitterly.
"You or I might find them uncomfortably low," I said, "but for a shorter-legged organism, they might be quite suitable."
"Yes," he said.
"And here and there," I said, "attached to some of the benches, I think you can detect the presence of ankle stocks, and, on the attached armrests, wrist stocks."
"But for rather small ankles and wrists," he said.
"Yes," I said, "and here and there, similarly, you can see, still in place, the iron framework for the insertions of the neck planks. You will note, too, that the matching semicircular apertures in the planks, there are some there, on the floor, are rather small."
"Yes," he said.
"This barge," I said, "is of a type used in Port Kar, on the canals, and in the delta, for example, between Port Kar, and other cities, and the Vosk towns, particularly Turmus and Ven, for the transportation, in utter helplessness and total ignorance, of female slaves."
"Yes," he said. "I see."
"Of course, such vessels are used elsewhere, as well," I said.
"In the south," he said, "we often transport slaves hooded, or in covered cages. Sometimes we ship them in boxes, the air holes of which are baffled, so that they may not be seen through."
I nodded. There are many such devices. One of the simplest and most common is the slave sack, into which the girl, gagged, and with her hands braceleted behind her back, is commonly introduced headfirst. These devices have in common the feature of ensuring the total helplessness of the slave and, if one wishes, her ignorance of her destination, route and such. Sometimes, of course, one wishes the slave to know where she is being taken, and what is to be done with her, particularly if this information is likely to increase her arousal, her terror, her desire to please, and so forth. For example, it seldom hurts to let a former free woman know that she is now being delivered as a naked slave to the gardens of a mortal enemy. One of the most common ways of transporting slaves, of course, is by slave wagon. The most common sort is a stout wagon with a central, locking bar running the length of the wagon bed, to which the girls are shackled, usually by the ankles. Most such wagons are squa
rish and have covers which may be pulled down and belted in place. In this way one may shield the girls, if one wishes, from such things as the sun and the rain. Too, of course, the cover may be used to simply close them in. Many slave girls, too, of course, are moved from one place to another on foot, in coffle.
The officer came away from the window, angrily, and looked down at the benches. Several of them had the varnish worn from them. The barge, in its day, I suspected, had frequently plied the delta, probably between Port Kar, and other cities, and Turmus and Ven. Slave girls are normally transported nude.
"And so," said the officer, angrily, "we have spent days pursuing a slave barge."
"It seems so," I said.
"The Cosians, then," he said, "must still be in front of us."
I was silent. This did not seem to me likely, or at least not in numbers.
At this moment we heard some shouting outside, some cries.
The officer looked up, puzzled, and then, paying me no mind, went up the stairs to the stern deck.
I followed him.
"We seldom saw them!" cried a fellow. "It was as though the rence were alive!"
I emerged onto the stern deck, blinking against the sun, where my keeper, who was waiting for me, unlooping the rope leash from the yoke, and, keeping me on a short tether, about a foot Gorean in length, the remaining portion of the leash coiled in his hand, recovered my charge.
"We had no chance," wept a fellow from the water. "We did not even see them!"
"Where?" demanded the officer, at the barge rail.
"On the right!" called up a fellow.
Following my keeper, who, too, was curious, I went to the rail. In the water, below, with the many others who had originally surrounded and charged the barge, were some six or seven other fellows, distraught, haggard, wild-eyed, some bleeding, some supporting their fellows.
"Numbers?" inquired the officer.
"There must have been hundreds of them, for pasangs," said a fellow from below, in the water.
"We could not fight," said another. "We could not find them. There seemed little, if anything, to draw against!"
"Only a shadow," wept a man, "a movement in the rence, a suspicion, and then the arrows, and the arrows!"
"What were the casualties?" asked the officer.
"It was a rout, a slaughter!" cried a fellow.
"What is your estimate of the casualties?" repeated the officer, insistently.
"The right flank is gone!" wept a man.
"Gone!" cried another.
I could see other fellows making their way towards us, through the rence, some dozens, more survivors, many wounded.
I did not personally think the right flank was gone, but I gathered it had grievously suffered, that it had undergone severe losses, that it was routed, that it was decimated. These fellows near us, for example, were from the right flank. They had not been able, it seemed, to rally, or reform. When one has been in a disastrous action, particularly a mysterious one which has not been anticipated, one which one does not fully understand, there is a tendency of the survivors to overestimate casualties. A fellow, for example, who has seen several fall near him, in his own tiny place of war, often as narrow as a few yards in width, has a tendency to suppose these losses are typical of the entire field, that they characterize the day itself. Similarly, of course, there are occasions in which a fellow, victorious in his purview, learns only later, and to his dismay, that his side is in retreat, that the battle, as a whole, was lost. Still, I did not doubt but what the losses were considerable. The entire right flank might have to be reorganized.
"We will counterattack," said the officer.
"Your foe will not be there," I said.
"This is a tragic day for Ar," said a fellow.
More soldiers were wading, some staggering, toward us, these come from the right.
"The first engagement to Cos," said a fellow bitterly.
"Who would have thought this could happen?" said a man.
"Vengeance upon the Cosian sleen!" cried a man.
"The missiles used against you were not quarrels, not bolts," I said.
"No," said a fellow, "arrows."
"Arrows," said I, "sped from the peasant bow." In the last few years, the use of the peasant bow, beginning in the vicinity of the tidal marshes, had spread rapidly eastward throughout the delta. The materials for the weapon and its missiles, not native to the delta, are acquired largely through trade. Long ago the rencers had learned its power. They had never forgotten it. By means of it they had become formidable foes. The combination of the delta, with its natural defenses, and the peasant bow, made the rencers all but invulnerable.
The officer looked at me.
"You are not dealing with Cosians," I said. "You are dealing with rencers."
"People of scaling knives, of throwing sticks, and fish spears!" laughed a fellow.
"And of the peasant bow," I said.
"Surely you jest?" said the officer.
"Did you hear, before the attack," I asked, "the cries of marsh gants?"
"Yes," said one of the fellows in the water.
"It is by means of such cries that rencers communicate during the day," I said. "At night they use the cries of Vosk gulls."
"We will counterattack," said the officer.
"You will not find them," I said.
"We will send out scouts," he said.
"They would not return," I said. To be sure, it was possible to scout rencers, but normally this could be done only by individuals wise to the ways of the delta, in most cases other rencers. The forces of Ar in the delta, if I were not mistaken, would not have experienced scouts with them. Even so small a thing as this constituted yet another indication of the precipitateness of Ar, her unreadiness to enter the delta.
"We must not allow them to press their advantage," said the officer.
Men were still streaming in from the right.
"They will not press their advantage—as yet," I said.
"'As yet'?" he asked.
"It is a different form of warfare," I said.
"It is not warfare," said a man. "It is brigandage, it is ambush and banditry!"
"I would not pursue them," I said. "They will melt away before you, perhaps to close on your flanks."
"What is your recommendation?" he asked.
"I would set up defense perimeters," I said.
"Labienus is in command," said a fellow, angrily. 'Labienus' was the name of the officer.
"Do not listen to him," said another. "Surely he is in sympathy with them."
"He may be one of them!" said another.
"He is an enemy!" said another.
"Kill him!" said another.
"You anticipate another attack?" asked the officer.
"Perimeters against infiltration," I said. "Preferably with open expanses of delta. Beware of straws, or rence, which seem to move in the water."
"You do not anticipate another attack?" asked the officer.
"The element of surprise gone," I said, "I would not anticipate another attack, not now, at least, not of a nature similar to that which has apparently just occurred."
"You speak of simple rencers as though they were trained warriors, of ruses, of stratagems and tactics which might be the mark of a Maximus Hegesius Quintilius, of a Dietrich of Tarnburg."
"Or of a Ho-Hak, or a Tamrun, of the Rence," I said.
"I have not heard of such fellows," said a man.
"And many in the rence," I said, "may never have heard of a Marlenus of Ar."
There were angry cries from the men about.
"You are now, unbidden, in their country," I said.
"Rencers!" scoffed a man.
"Wielders of the great bow, the peasant bow," I reminded him.
"Rabble!" said a man.
"Apparently your right flank did not find them such," I said.
"Set up defense perimeters," said the officer.
Subalterns, angrily, signaled to their
men.
"With such perimeters set," I said, "I think the rencers will keep their distance—until dark."
"They will never dare to attack Ar again," said a fellow.
"It is shameful to be bested by rencers," said a man.
"They may have been Cosians," said a fellow.
"Or under Cosian command," said another.
"I do not think so," I said, "though I would suppose the Cosians have many friends, and many contacts, in the delta. They have, for years, cultivated those in the delta. I would not doubt but what agents, in the guise of traders, and such, have well prepared the rencers for your visit. You may well imagine what they may have been told."
Men looked at one another.
"I think there is little doubt that those of Cos are more politically astute than those of Ar," I said. An excellent example of this was Cos' backing of Port Cos' entry into the Vosk League, presumably hoping thereby to influence or control the league through the policies of her sovereign colony, while Ar refused this same opportunity to Ar's Station, thereby more than ever isolating Ar's Station on the river. "Cos comes to the delta with smiles and sweets, as an ally and friend. Ar comes as an uninvited trespasser, as though she would be an invading conqueror."
"The rencers have attacked us," said a man. "They must be punished!"
"It is you who are being punished," I said.
"'We'?" said the fellow.
"Yes," I said. "Did you not, only yesterday, destroy a rence village?"
There was silence.
"Was that not the "great victory"?" I asked.
"How could rencers retaliate so quickly?" asked the officer. "The reports suggest there were hundreds of them."
"There may have been hundreds," I said. "I suspect they have been gathered for days."
"Surely they know we only seek to close with those of Cos, with their force in the north," said a fellow.
"I think they would find that very hard to believe," I said.
"Why?" asked a man.
I looked at the officer.
"No," said the officer, angrily. "That is impossible."
"We have no quarrel with rencers," said a man.
"We do now," said another, bitterly.
Vagabonds of Gor Page 14
