by John Norman
“I see,” I said.
“From whence are you?” asked the first.
“Brundisium,” I said.
“A great port,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
“The man we seek, Aktis, he who is the alleged bearer of the bow,” said the leader, “is a peasant, we think, of Nicosia. Have you heard of him, or do you know of him?”
“No,” I said.
“We shall then detain you no longer,” he said. “I wish you well.”
“And I you,” I said, hoping it would not be necessary, later, to kill him.
We looked after the two uniformed men, who were now accosting another visitor to the fair, this time in the gray of the metal workers.
“Soldiers of Cos are far from Cos,” said Thurnock.
“I do not think they are soldiers of Cos,” I said. “The laws are the laws of Cos, but the enforcers of the law need not be Cosians.”
“Who then?” asked Thurnock.
“Who would most wish the villages and towns of the Farther Islands to be defenseless?” I asked.
“Raiders,” said Thurnock.
“I would think so,” I said.
“Aktis must walk with care,” said Clitus.
“I hope that he is wise enough to do so,” I said.
“I have not seen him in three days,” said Thurnock. “Where is he, what has he been doing?”
“Contacting peasants, from many villages,” I said, “and particularly, as far as possible, headmen, pleading for an end to apathy, for an awareness of the threat they face, particularly the coastal villages.”
“Suppose he is successful,” said Clitus. “Then what?”
“That is the secret of the long tent,” I said, “to the north of the fairgrounds.”
“I have not heard of these things,” said Clitus.
“Peasants,” I said, “have their codes, like other castes. Commonly they do not inform on one another.”
“But the guardsmen, or soldiers, were seeking Aktis,” said Clitus. “Someone must have reported him, betrayed him, informed upon him, called him to the attention of others.”
“Sometimes,” I said, “an ost is found even within the walls of a city.”
“It is unfortunate,” said Thurnock, “that Nicomachos, Admiral of the Farther Islands, contrary to announcements and expectations, is not in attendance at the fair.”
“Yes,” I said. “I had hoped to meet him, in the absence of the governor.”
“To kill him?” asked Clitus.
“If necessary,” I said.
“Master,” asked Lais, “may I speak?”
“No,” I said.
“I would really like very much to speak,” she said.
“No,” I said.
“Very well,” she said.
“You seem content,” I said.
“I am,” she said.
“Do you wish to be beaten?” I asked.
“Not at all,” she said.
“Very well,” I said, “you may speak.”
“Admiral Nicomachos,” she said, “is in attendance at the fair, but secretly, not officially, not publicly.”
“Are you sure of this?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“You know his location, his visitors, his guards?”
“Of course,” she said.
“How could you know these things?” I asked.
“Slaves talk,” she said, “—when permitted.”
Chapter Twenty
The Meeting in the Long Tent
“Dear friends,” said Aktis, “caste brothers, members of the first and greatest of castes, members of the mightiest of castes, members of the caste upon which the Home Stone rests, be welcome.”
The long tent, save for a long, central aisle, was crowded, so crowded that all stood. Clitus, Thurnock, and I were to one side, our backs to the canvas. There must have been five or six hundred men in the tent, but that number, as large as it was, would scarcely be missed from the population of the fair.
It was night.
Torches illuminated the interior of the tent.
“I have met many of you personally,” said Aktis, “and have urged the case of solidarity and manliness.”
“Of jeopardy and absurdity,” cried a fellow near the front.
“What entitles you to call this meeting?” asked another. “Have you cleared this meeting with the Mayors of the fair?”
“We are not on the grounds of the fair,” said Aktis, “nor are we within the pomerium of Mytilene.”
“I think there is lawlessness here,” said another man.
“Speak,” called another fellow.
“What right has he to speak?” called another.
“The Right of the Shared Hearth,” said a man.
“We wait,” called more than one man. “Speak, speak!”
“Sedition and treason, criminality and treachery, have no right to be heard,” said a fellow.
“It is no sedition to survive,” said Aktis. “It is not treason to be true to oneself. It is not criminal to be ready to defend oneself. It is not treachery to cling to honor!”
“Beat him and cast him forth,” called a man.
“Bind him and let him grunt and swill with his fellow tarsks,” said another.
I noted, uneasily, two or three men slipping from the tent.
I had little doubt as to what their departure betokened.
“You think you are in no danger,” said Aktis, “because you see no danger. You think there are no sleen because you have not yet felt their teeth. You think you are safe until the larl claws at your gate. Are we truly ignorant, naive, simple, thoughtless fools, just as the other castes think we are?”
“Beware!” cried several men.
Many castes do tend to look down upon the Peasantry, particularly in the larger cities. On the other hand, this was not a fault for which I could honestly blame myself. I had always entertained a high opinion of the Peasants, their wisdom, foresight, and astuteness, their understandings of seasons and weathers, their stalwart copings with winds and rains, droughts and floods, their somehow making fields rich and bountiful, their somehow bringing forth the harvests which enabled the high cities to touch the sky, which produced a world in which the glories of art and civilization were possible.
“My name is Aktis,” said Aktis.
“The Aktis for whom guardsmen search?” asked a man.
“It is so,” said Aktis.
“Seize him!” called a man. “Deliver him to the law!”
“Hear me, oh my caste brothers!” called Aktis.
“Let him speak,” said a man. “He has the Right of the Shared Hearth.”
“It is true I am Aktis, he for whom your enemies seek.”
“Our friends!” called a man.
“I am of Nicosia,” said Aktis, “of which village some of you have heard.”
“It no longer exists,” said a man.
“It was set upon by raiders proclaiming themselves to be of Port Kar,” said Aktis. “It became the scene of burning and looting, of slaughter.”
“It is gone, it is no more,” said a man.
“Its Home Stone, hidden, survives,” said Aktis.
Interest, like a swift rivulet, coursed amongst those present. Men exchanged wild, insightful glances.
“Yes,” said Aktis, “Nicosia lives, but it is bloodied, emptied, and scarred. Harvests and treasures, small as they might be, are gone. The palisade is burned, the pomerium violated.”
“So, too, with other villages,” said a man.
“I know of one,” said a man.
“I have heard of two,” said another.
I myself supposed that there must have been at least a do
zen such onslaughts, but it was not surprising to me that many in the room knew little, or nothing, about such incidents. Much of the news in the Farther Islands is carried afoot, in the packs of peddlers, so to speak. Probably those of Sybaris, or even of far Telnus and Jad, on Cos, knew more of such things than small isolated communities within a hundred pasangs of the actual occurrences.
“Next,” cried Aktis, “will it be you who hears axes on the gate? Will it be your fields which will smoke to the sky, your homes which will be consumed in flame, your blood upon the hearth?”
“Summon guardsmen!” cried a man. “He has been seen with a forbidden weapon!”
“Yes!” cried Aktis, “and so see me once more!” He seized up a long package, tore aside the wrappings, and lifted, displayed, and brandished his bow.
Some men drew back.
“That is a forbidden weapon!” cried a man.
“It has been forbidden to us,” said a man.
“That is to keep us safe,” said another.
“And who has forbidden it to you?” asked Aktis. “Cos, hated Cos! That not you but that it will be safe, that it may do what it wants with you, and to you. That you will be defenseless and at her mercy! Every tyranny wishes to deprive the tyrannized of the means to resist! What tyranny would not seek to do so, what tyranny would not struggle to bring about a situation so much to its advantage? And meanwhile, the docile verr, so proud and jealous of their weakness, so enamored of their impotence, find themselves not only at the mercy of the tyranny but at the mercy of outlaws, rogues and raiders! My brothers, my caste brothers, put aside the timidity of the urt. Seize up the stealth and cunning of the sleen, the courage of the mighty larl. Arm yourselves! Arm yourselves!”
At that point, from outside the tent, there was a shouting and a clanging on shields. A moment later swords were slashing through the walls of the tent.
Consternation ensued.
“Do not move!” cried a commanding voice. “Stay where you are!”
Uniformed, armed men had thrust through the rents in the canvas, pushing men closer together, until, in a moment, there was no longer an aisle in the tent.
“Remain where you are,” said the fellow with the commanding voice. “Do not attempt to leave the tent.” He looked about, and men dared not meet his gaze. He then called out, “We seek a villain wanted on Chios, and elsewhere, a spreader of sedition, a fomenter of discontent, the harborer of a forbidden weapon, an Aktis, once from that nest of osts, Nicosia.”
“I am he,” said Aktis, from toward the front of the tent.
I noted that he had now strung his bow, and had an arrow fitted to the string.
“Put down your weapon!” ordered the fellow with the commanding voice, leader of the uniformed men.
“Put down yours,” said Aktis.
“Do so,” roared the leader of the newcomers.
“No,” responded Aktis.
“That is a forbidden weapon,” said the leader of those who had cut their way into the long tent.
“Not to me,” said Aktis. “I permit it to myself.”
“Disarm yourself, now, in the name of Lurius of Jad, Ubar of Cos,” roared the leader.
The hearing of the name of Lurius visibly dismayed several of those in attendance.
“I decline,” said Aktis, “in the name of the Home Stone of Nicosia.”
“Do you wish us to fall upon all here,” said the leader, “putting every man to the sword?”
“I would not do so,” said Aktis, in a voice which touched my spine with ice.
“Seize him, bind him!” said the leader to the crowd, but even those who had disputed, or objected to, the words of Aktis did not stir.
“I am authorized by great Lurius to apply decimation,” said the leader.
In decimation men are randomly aligned and, beginning with a man randomly selected, every tenth man is slain. It is commonly used with troops which have behaved in a cowardly or dishonorable fashion, failed to engage under orders, fled the field of battle, and so on.
“Dear caste brothers,” said Aktis, “it is late. You must be tired. Feel free to seat yourselves.” They soon, then, group by group, settled on the dirt floor, sitting cross-legged in the fashion common to Gorean men.
It was undoubtedly clear then to the leader, and his men, that a field of fire had been cleared between them and the arrows of Aktis.
“Rush him, seize him!” cried the leader to his men.
But his men did not move.
Given the seated crowd and the inevitable impediments imposed on movement, I speculated that Aktis could discharge four, and perhaps five, arrows before anyone could reach him. Thurnock, on the other hand, I thought could improve on that somewhat. He was, of course, more familiar with the weapon.
I could not blame the intruders for not wishing to be the first, or the second, and so on, to respond to their leader’s order.
“Lurius of Jad, tyrant of Cos, grows fat in his palace,” said Aktis. “He knows little, and cares less, about the Farther Islands, save what he can tax and what his officers can steal for him.”
The crowd, startled, reacted. But I heard a muttered ‘Yes’ from more than one man. Could such words have been spoken? Should they not have been spoken long ago? As I may have suggested, Cos is little loved by many in the Islands. The ambivalent attitudes of the harbor authorities at the Cove of Harpalos were not untypical.
“Slander! Treason!” cried the leader of the uniformed men.
I should mention that ‘tyrannos’ in Gorean is a much more neutral term than ‘tyrant’ in English. It signifies little more than rule by one, rule by a given individual. Accordingly, in Gorean, it does not carry the inevitable negative connotations associated with the English term. In Gorean it would not be a contradiction in terms, or such, to speak of a public-spirited tyrannos, a good tyrannos, and so on. On the other hand, such an office obviously carries its temptations, to which it is not unknown for some men to succumb. Consequently, I have no reservations with respect to using the word ‘tyrant’ in English, with its familiar English connotations, when referring to Lurius of Jad.
“You have no authorization from Lurius of Cos, to apply decimation, even to intrude in this place,” said Aktis. “He is faraway, and knows nothing of your actions.”
“I have a warrant for the arrest of Aktis of Nicosia,” said the leader of the uniformed men, slapping his hand on his wallet.
“If so, display it, now,” said Aktis. “There are many here who can read!”
I doubted that. Few of the brown caste can read.
“Surrender!” shouted the leader.
“To soldiers of Cos?” asked Aktis.
“Yes!” bellowed the leader.
“Regulars of Cos?” said Aktis.
“Yes!” roared the leader.
“Produce them!” said Aktis.
“You are at the point of their swords,” said he who was the leader of the uniformed men.
“Regulars of Cos are spearmen,” said Aktis, “veterans of the defense and attack of two spears, long spears and casting spears, masters of the fence of death, stalwarts whose lines of braced spears deter even tharlarion. I see no spears, long spears, or casting spears. How can these be regulars of Cos? Have they overlooked or forgotten their primary weapons? And consider the variety of swords carried by these men, variously hilted, variously edged, single and double, with diverse reaches. And sheaths are not uniform. The cuts and hems of tunics differ. At best you are militia, at worse impostors.”
I was pleased that Aktis had noticed these things. To be sure, he had seen Cosian regulars in Sybaris, posted there presumably to remind Therans of the presence, and power, of Cos.
“Now,” said Aktis, “I call your attention to this bow. It is of the sort called the great bow, or the peasant bow. Behold. I now draw it. Not every man could
do so. Those unfamiliar with the bow have little understanding of the force it imparts to the string, and the released string to the freed arrow. It can be fired accurately and rapidly over considerable distances. At this range it could sink several inches into the trunk of a full-grown Tur tree. If I were to release the string, I doubt that even you, my fraudulent, unwelcome, intrusive friend, could follow the flight of the arrow to your heart.”
At this point the leader of the uniformed men cried out, turned about, and fled through the slashed canvas, while his men took their exits similarly.
Aktis then bent and unstrung the weapon, and the crowd in the tent, uneasily, and looking at one another, rose to their feet.
“It is a forbidden weapon,” said a man.
“We do not wish to anger Cos,” said another.
“You will get us all killed,” said another. “Our villages will be burned.”
“Without the bow,” said Aktis, “it is far more likely your villages will be burned.”
“Flee,” a man advised Aktis.
“Contact me, at Nicosia,” said Aktis. “Bows have been smuggled in from Sybaris, dozens. I and certain others can supply them. Learn them. Use them as models for others. All this can be done in secrecy.”
But the men turned away, and, one by one, looking about as if they expected to find a Cosian soldier at their elbow, left the tent.
Then only Aktis, Thurnock, Clitus, and I were left in the tent.
“You did well,” I said to Aktis.
“I have failed,” said Aktis.
“You did well,” I said. “The failure is theirs, not yours.”
“It is easier to plow around a stump,” said Aktis, “than remove it.”
“Yet, one spring,” said Thurnock, “the stump, inch by inch, is drawn from the soil.”
I looked about, at the shredded walls of the long tent, now so barren, now so empty.
The rent canvas moved a little, responding to a soft wind, coming in from the harbor.
“Let us suppose,” I said, “that this meeting never took place.”
“It never took place,” said Thurnock.
We then, each one of us, took one of the torches which illuminated the interior of the long tent and set fire to the rent canvas.
