Avengers of Gor

by John Norman

  “As we are both lovers of peace,” he said, “and both lack amity with Cos, resenting its exploitations and villainies, we should be friends, and allies, not foes.”

  “Speak further,” I said.

  “The rogues of Zeuxis did not merely sympathize with Cos, but spied on its behalf, betraying other villages, thus making themselves partisans,” he said.

  “I did not know that,” I said.

  “Surely then you do not hold it against us that we hoped to dissuade those of Zeuxis from their Cosian sympathies,” he said.

  “How could one do that?” I asked.

  “And we would not have harmed so much as a hair on the head of one of the villagers,” he said.

  “That was not clear to me,” I said.

  “And I, Bosk of Port Kar,” he said, “am powerful in Port Kar. I can abet your aims and hopes. I can sway the Council of Captains, that body sovereign in Port Kar, to enleague themselves with your faction. Consider the value of a mighty alliance between you, the Peasantry of the Farther Islands, and the sea-scouring navies of Port Kar, the Jewel of Gleaming Thassa.”

  “Such a vista,” I said, “I had dared not contemplate.”

  “Free us, let us go to the beach and our ships, uncontested, and it is within your grasp,” he said.

  “I shall do so!” I said.

  “Surely not, Commander!” cried Thurnock.

  “No, Commander!” cried Clitus.

  “You cannot do so,” said Sakim.

  “Do not trust them,” begged Aktis.

  “The decision is made,” I said.

  He who claimed to be Bosk of Port Kar, and those of his oddly assorted retinue, men high and low, exchanged swift glances of relief and gladness.

  “Who is Commander?” I demanded of those about me.

  “You, Commander,” said Thurnock, in seeming disappointment.

  One or two of the others added their acquiescence, as well, seemingly grudgingly.

  I was pleased. I thought that my fellows handled it all pretty well.

  “However,” I said, “in your safe, uncontested passage to the sea, generously allowed to you, you may bear no arms, either offensive or defensive, no swords, no spears, no knives or axes, no shields, no helmets, no bucklers, or such.”

  “Impossible!” he cried.

  “It is quite possible,” I said, “easily managed.”

  “Never!” he said.

  “The choice is yours,” I said. “Time is short. I recommend that you gather your forces, wish one another farewell, and rush forth. It should all be over within an Ahn. Your fellows at the beach will be proud of you, that you died so well.”

  “We would be vulnerable, helpless, we could be slaughtered to a man,” he said.

  “That is true,” I said.

  “How can we trust you?” he asked.

  “I suppose you cannot,” I said. “Certainly we admit that it would be difficult.”

  “It would be dishonorable to lure us forth, trusting and unarmed,” he said, “and then fall upon us, butchering us like defenseless verr.”

  “Yes,” I said, “quite dishonorable.”

  “But you will not do so,” he averred.

  “That is a risk you must take,” I said.

  “I trust that you are honorable,” he said.

  “And you may gamble that your trust is not misplaced,” I said.

  “Surely you can understand my misgivings, my apprehensions,” he said, “were you in my place.”

  “I think so,” I said. “I am glad, incidentally, that I am not in your place.”

  “Your terms are harrowing and cruel,” he said.

  “But attractive and lenient,” I said.

  “We count upon your honor,” he said.

  “Strange that you, Bosk of Port Kar, should speak of honor,” I said. “Is Bosk of Port Kar not a rogue, a pirate and villain, a fellow perfidious and merciless, a cad and scoundrel, one both treacherous and dishonorable?”

  “No,” he said. “I am a good fellow, pleasant, trustworthy and honorable, honorable to the core.”

  “I am glad to hear it,” I said.

  “Enemies speak falsely of me, they lie about me,” he said, “they besmirch my name.”

  “I am sorry to hear it,” I said.

  “We will arrange,” he said, “to leave immediately.”

  “One more thing,” I said, “your passage, while safe and uncontested, is not free. Each man must pay for his passage, by all the coins and valuables in his possession.”

  “That is theft,” he said.

  “Why should a thief not have his plunder stolen?” I asked. “What entitles a cut-purse to complain when his own purse is missing? What right has a looter to object to being looted?”

  “It is still theft,” he said.

  “It is more in the nature of a toll,” I said.

  “You leave us no choice,” he said.

  “None that is pleasant,” I agreed.

  A few Ehn later, less than a quarter of an Ahn later, the corsairs, the advance party, those who had been in the first portion of the column, and those who had been trapped within the palisade, in twos and threes, some hurrying, some hobbling, some assisted by others, all unarmed, and bereft of valuables, were on the road, moving toward the beach.

  “There are enough there,” said Thurnock, “to wipe us out.”

  “If armed,” said Aktis.

  “If knowledgeable,” said Clitus.

  “If well led,” said Sakim.

  “Only if in broad, open battle,” I said.

  “I do not think,” said Thurnock, “that they believe we are truly numerous, that there is a Peasant Army.”

  “But they do not know,” I said.

  “True,” said Thurnock.

  “But we must change their belief,” I said.

  “And how can we do that?” asked Thurnock.

  “Easily,” I said.

  “How?” asked Thurnock.

  “By showing them the army,” I said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  What was Observed, from a Hill on Daphna

  “They are still in place,” said Thurnock.

  “They are unclear as to how to proceed,” I said.

  As once before, when scrutinizing the enemy, I, Thurnock, and some others, lay at the crest of a hill overlooking the beach and the seven ships of the corsair fleet. The scene was much the same as before, except for a number of newly pitched tents and the semi-circular, defensive ditch, with its heaped sand and shield wall, its back to the sea, by means of which a number of corsairs, those denied boarding on the ships, had cordoned off a portion of the beach.

  “It seems,” said Thurnock, “the fleet is still reluctant to take its raiders aboard and depart.”

  This seemed clear from the newly pitched tents on the beach.

  “I think they are considering a new march inland,” I said, “one cautious, but in force.”

  “I would have liked to hear the reports of the corsairs, given the recent incidents, and how they were received by the fleet’s high command,” said Clitus.

  “I expect the exchanges were lively,” I said.

  “Many,” said Clitus, “would be the exaggerations, excuses, recriminations, denunciations, and challenges.”

  “I would be curious as to the high command of the fleet,” said Thurnock, “who is in charge of the corsairs, and who leads them.”

  “I, too,” I said. “It must be a lieutenant of Archelaos.”

  “And to whom is Archelaos lieutenant?” asked Clitus.

  “That, I think,” I said, “is clear.”

  A provincial governor might well be corrupt, even to the extent of supporting and protecting raiders, but the elaborate hoax of identifying the raider
s as the minions of a foe from faraway, of whom many in the Farther Islands might well have never heard suggested a darker, higher politics.

  “Surely the leader of the corsairs, or one of their high leaders,” said Aktis, “is the false Bosk of Port Kar.”

  “I do not think so,” I said.

  “He is a figurehead,” said Clitus, “a buffoon, possibly even an actor, one whom they tell to lead, or pretend to lead, one expendable and easily replaceable.”

  “Who then is first amongst the corsairs?” asked Aktis.

  “That we do not know,” I said, “perhaps it is Nicomachos, First Captain of Sybaris, a High Officer of Cos, Admiral of the Fleet of the Farther Islands.”

  “That would make sense,” said Clitus.

  “Let them not march inland,” said Sakim. “They would be wary, and we would be far outnumbered.”

  “We could fall back, disappearing, like water into sand,” said Clitus, “or even, as possible, hang about their flanks, reappearing and then fading away again, selecting occasional targets.”

  “In either case,” I said, “they would be better informed as to our numbers, and might then depart, far more emboldened. The mighty trident-horned kailiauk of the plains goes about its business, ignoring the tiny zarlit fly.”

  “I fear,” said Sakim, “that they will choose to march inland in force.”

  “I do not think they will,” I said.

  “Why not?” asked Sakim.

  “Be patient,” I said.

  “I am troubled,” said Thurnock.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “In your recent parley with the false Bosk of Port Kar,” said Thurnock, “before permitting him and his men, weaponless and shorn of valuables, to return to the beach, you claimed you had a Peasant Army of some five thousand men at your disposal, indeed, one being augmented daily.”

  “I recall having said something like that,” I said.

  “I can understand the motivation for some such fabrication,” said Thurnock, “but, objectively, such a claim is preposterous. Consider the corsairs relaying that claim to their fleet. It will not be believed. Such a claim will be met with derision and scorn. Even the false Bosk of Port Kar, hungry, thirsting, and terrified, was skeptical.”

  “It is clear,” said Aktis, “that the claim was not believed. Behold the beach. Even now a new column is being marshaled.”

  “But not as well equipped,” said Thurnock. “We saw to that.”

  “There is not so much of a lack there as we might hope,” said Clitus. “It seems armament and weaponry are in evidence, presumably supplied from the crews and arsenals of the ships.”

  “That was to be expected,” I said.

  “We had best withdraw,” said Thurnock, “vanishing into the high grass, being as though we never existed.”

  “You suspect, dear Thurnock,” I said, “that the corsairs doubt the strength of our numbers, doubt that we number in the thousands?”

  “If they believed that,” said Thurnock, “the beach would be clear and the ships under sail.”

  “How could we convince them?” I asked.

  “I do not know,” he said.

  “It is not so difficult,” I said.

  “How?” he asked.

  “Consider the gap, the declivity between those two hills,” I said, “where the beach rises to the road.”

  “So?” said Thurnock.

  “That is the most likely approach to the beach,” I said. “Surely it, and other paths, given the battle of the road, the fighting near Zeuxis, and such, would be under surveillance.”

  “Certainly,” said Thurnock, “lest an attack be made on the beach.”

  “And under surveillance,” I said, “not only from the camp, but, one supposes, also from the ships, by means of the glass of the Builders.”

  “One supposes so,” said Thurnock.

  “Keep your eye on that point,” I said.

  “I see some of our fellows filing by,” he said, “in rows of four or perhaps five. It is hard to tell at the distance.”

  “In the brown of the Peasantry,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “Shortly they will be gone.”

  “Keep looking,” I said.

  “They are still filing by,” he said, after a time.

  “What would convince the enemy that we are numerous?” I asked.

  “The evidence of his own senses,” he said, “what he sees with his own eyes.”

  “Keep looking,” I said.

  “I do not understand this,” said Thurnock.

  “Recall our conversation after the parley at Zeuxis,” I said. “Should the enemy doubt that we have an army it is easy to convince him that he is wrong. One need only show him the army.”

  “They are still filing by,” said Thurnock.

  “Keep looking,” I said.

  “And still,” said Thurnock.

  “Keep looking,” I said.

  “The sun descends from the meridian,” said Clitus.

  “This is madness,” said Thurnock.

  “On the beach they are striking the tents,” said Aktis. “The column is disassembling. The shield wall is being dismantled. Longboats are coming ashore to convey the corsairs to the ships. Masts are being raised, and sails drop from the yards. Ships come about. Oars are outboard.”

  “They are still filing by,” said Thurnock.

  “But not for much longer,” I said. “I think that some five thousand in our army will do, at least for now.”

  “The fleet departs,” said Aktis.

  “We, too, must soon make our departure,” I said. “Our work here is done.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  A Discussion Ensues in the Command Tent; Blood May Rest Upon the Blade of Honor

  “How could one fall for so obvious a ruse?” asked Thurnock.

  “By not understanding it is a ruse,” I said.

  “There is risk in adopting such a tactic,” said Clitus.

  “In war there is always risk,” I said. “Yet, had it been ineffective, we would not have been much worse off.”

  “The paucity of our numbers would have been understood,” said Aktis.

  “Most likely,” I said. “It was suspected, in any event.”

  “And would surely have been determined had the corsairs marched inland,” said Sakim.

  “But,” said Thurnock, “the tactic was effective.”

  “It has been used on another world,” I said, “successfully, and more than once.”

  “What world?” asked Aktis.

  “Earth, or Terra,” I said.

  “It exists?” asked Aktis.

  “It,” I said, “and doubtless others, as well.”

  “Such things are clear in the Second Knowledge,” said Sakim, who had once been a captain.

  “Knowledge is knowledge,” said Aktis. “How can there be a Second Knowledge?”

  “Many who are limited to the First Knowledge,” said Sakim, “do not even know there is a Second Knowledge.”

  “And it is said,” said Clitus, “that there is a Third Knowledge, known only to Priest-Kings.”

  We were conferring in the command tent, hidden high amongst the crags overlooking the harbor of the Cove of Harpalos.

  The tactic mentioned was, in essence, simple, like surprise, diversion, screening, posting agents and spies, cutting lines of communication and supply, planting false information, and such, but was in execution subtle. In this case, visually, there is little difference between seeing one hundred soldiers and seeing one soldier a hundred times. I had had our some two hundred and fifty men, march in a closed loop, visible only at a certain point, as between two cliffs, or, in our case, between two hills. Every part of the moving loop would be, in its turn, seen and then unseen, and then seen
again, over and over, for, as some marchers were seen, other marchers would be circling back through a concealed ditch. In this way, one receives the impression of a continuous, unbroken column of men. After the success of this tactic, I had had the ditch refilled, lest its existence excite curiosity, and seem to call for an explanation.

  “Our spies in Sybaris,” said Sakim, “report widescale defection amongst the corsairs. Many have fled Thera. Panic is rampant. It seems village raids have been discontinued. Rumors abound. Tales of a merciless Peasant army, one spread amongst the islands, circulate in the taverns. Recruitment of pirates, save for crews, lags, or is nonexistent. Brigands do not seek to pit themselves against insurmountable odds. Brigands look for loot, not death.”

  “The villages are safe,” said Clitus.

  “For a time,” said Aktis.

  “They must be kept safe,” I said.

  “Thanks to Xanthos, and his fellows,” said Aktis, “emissaries are contacting and enleaguing villages, carrying messages of pride and resolution, urging vigilance, preparedness, and a common defense.”

  “It seems,” said Clitus, “the Peasants are rising, if only belatedly.”

  “Word has spread,” said Aktis. “Dozens of my caste brothers, from as many villages, recalling the fair at Mytilene, have come to Nicosia, for instruction in the making of bows. They no longer choose to put themselves, even if laws prescribe it, at the mercy of thieves and killers. They will now dare to protect themselves, their children, their companions, their possessions and lands.”

  “Too,” said Thurnock, “watch towers are built, and signals, by day and night, have been devised.”

  “Cos will not be pleased,” said Sakim.

  “Cos may crush any village,” I said, “but it would not be wise to do so. Communication obtains. Unity waxes. If one village is attacked a hundred may retaliate. If the islands rise, Cos would be swept from their shores. It would be her best policy to overlook certain modest infractions of her self-seeking laws, such as denying the means of effective self-defense to subject populations to better rule them, and keep peace in the islands. It well known that war impedes the collection of taxes. Indeed, it has even been known, upon occasion, to topple tyrants.”

  “Making way for new tyrants,” said Clitus.