Rebels of Gor (26 page)

“We made that clear, earlier,” he said.

“Days ago,” I said. “But I was brought here today, surely not merely to witness an exhibition of fine archery.”

“No,” he said. “I wish to inform you that I have arranged the visit of two of your officers. They will see that you are well, and in good spirits. That is important. Too, such contacts are essential as we progress in the matter of the control of the cavalry. I will even permit you to speak to them privately.”

“Might I not as easily contact them,” I said, “if permitted a tarn?”

“It is important that you remain our guest for the time being,” he said.

“I understand,” I said. “What two officers?”

“Their names,” he said, “are Pertinax and Tajima.”

“I know them,” I said.

“They are junior officers,” he said. “Two others are senior, Lysander and Torgus, each of whom commanded a Century when the cavalry was intact, who will remain with the cavalry.”

“It seems you are well informed,” I said.

“Thus,” he said, “you need not fear that any attempt will be made to disrupt the chain of command.”

“You are astute,” I said.

“Perhaps you fear I might attempt to avail myself of two additional tarns?” he said.

“The thought might occur to one,” I said.

“What would be the value of four tarns,” he said, “while the cavalry retains several times that number?”

“True,” I said.

“These young officers,” he said, “following my instructions, will come with a third. The three will alight at a location undisclosed to me. The young officers will approach on foot, the three tarns left in the keeping of the third man. Thus, if a schedule is not well kept, or if any attempt should be made to obtain the tarns, the tarns, in the keeping of the remaining tarnsman, will take flight, returning safely to your camp, and the cavalry will have lost only two junior officers. Matters, of course, I anticipate, will proceed well, and our two young friends will return on tarnback with their companion to your camp, from which, thereafter, the cavalry will obey my orders.”

“And I am to remain here?” I said.

“For the time being,” he said.

“A hostage,” I said.

“A guest,” he said.

“These arrangements,” I said, “need not have been imparted to me in an archery court.”

“Even a shogun,” he said, “has his vanity.”

“Ho!” cried the Ashigaru suddenly, pointing upward, to the north, he who had returned the six arrows to the shogun.

In the distance there was a speck, in flight. I watched it make its way toward us. Oddly, for a moment it seemed as though it might be still, fixed in the sky, and the clouds were flowing behind it.

“Good,” said the shogun. “It is our friend, Tyrtaios. He is returning with my daughter, Sumomo.”

I felt cold.

“She thinks,” he said, “that she is being returned to the palace to be rewarded. In a sense I suppose she is, returned to be rewarded as is fit for a failed spy, one whose carelessness might have jeopardized my plans.”

“You have many daughters,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“Doubtless you have many sons, as well,” I said.

“No,” he said, “I have them strangled at birth.”

“Why?” I asked.

“They might vie with their father,” he said. “They might be ambitious, they might plot, they might desire to sit upon the dais of the shogun.”

“I see,” I said.

“Sumomo has disappointed me,” he said. “Her clumsiness, her indiscretion, need not have been without unwelcome consequences. As with others who have failed me, she is to be executed, slowly, and unpleasantly.”

“I see,” I said.

“Incidentally,” he said, “I must prevail upon you not to inform her of my intentions. That would constitute an abuse of my friendship, trust, and hospitality.”

“I understand,” I said.

The tarn was now descending.

“It is a single tarn,” I said.

“Why risk two tarns?” he said. “Too, Sumomo is light.”

“She is carried in honor,” I said.

“Would you have her tied to the capture rings?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “Not if she is free. Otherwise let her be stripped and fastened down, belly-up, across the saddle apron, where she may be looked upon in flight, and caressed as might please a master.”

With a blast of dust, and a snapping of wings, Tyrtaios brought the tarn down some forty or fifty paces away, at the far end, to the right of the archery court.

I considered the distance to that place.

Tyrtaios had his back to me as he was graciously assisting the delicate, richly-clad Sumomo from the saddle ladder to the ground.

“No, please, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said the shogun. I noted he had withdrawn one arrow from the stand and put it to the string of the bow.

“Perhaps it would be wise,” I said, “if I returned to my quarters.”

“Please do so,” said the shogun.

Chapter Eighteen

I Encounter Two Friends;

Lord Akio Has Approached

“Tajima, Pertinax!” I cried, elatedly.

I rushed to Pertinax and we clasped hands, and then embraced. Tears burned in his eyes. Tajima stood to one side, very still, but as far as I could read him, he was muchly pleased and reassured. We exchanged bows.

“I am pleased to see Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

“And I my friends,” I said.

“You are a prisoner,” said Pertinax.

“A guest,” I said, “one not permitted to leave.”

Tajima looked about.

“None are near,” I said.

I had been permitted to meet them in the open, within the main gate to the grounds.

“The shogun,” I said, “looks for allies, not enemies. He wishes to put us at our ease. Thus he refrains from prohibiting our private converse.”

“I fear it makes little difference,” said Pertinax, looking at the mighty panels of the heavy, now-closed-and-barred gate.

“We are to be entertained,” I said. “Expect gifts, and smiles.”

“We conjecture,” said Tajima, “that you did not desert the holding of Lord Temmu, repudiating your allegiance to that house, but were somehow betrayed into the keeping of the enemy.”

“That is what happened,” I said.

“Lords Nishida and Okimoto,” said Tajima, “have been told you turned to the enemy, as did Tyrtaios.”

“No,” I said.

“The cavalry is still yours,” said Pertinax. “It is ready to fly at the first cry of one-strap.”

“None but the cavalry anticipated this,” said Tajima.

“One did,” I said. “General Yamada.”

“You were betrayed by the house of Temmu,” said Pertinax. “Your sword is now free.”

“That you are here, and alive,” said Tajima, “indicates that Lord Yamada has designs on the cavalry.”

“Precisely,” I said.

“Where you should lead, it will follow,” said Pertinax.

“Where are your tarns?” I asked.

“The trek of an Ahn,” said Tajima.

“We have followed instructions,” said Pertinax.

“If we are not back by the Twentieth Ahn, with your orders,” said Tajima, “they will depart.”

“In whose keeping are they?” I asked.

“In that of Ichiro, bannerman,” said Tajima.

“Excellent,” I said.

I had hoped it would be so. I had full confidence in the discipline, reliability, and judgment of the bannerman.

“You were betrayed,” said Tajima. “Will you now pledge your sword to the house of Yamada?”

“He would pay well,” I said.

“You would then serve the house of Yamada?” said Pertinax.

“No,” I said.

“I thought not,” said Tajima.

“What then is to be done?” asked Pertinax.

“There is little here which can be helped,” I said. “You must keep your rendezvous with Ichiro before the Twentieth Ahn.”

“What of you?” asked Pertinax.

“You will not be detained in your departure,” I said, “for it will be assumed you are returning to camp with my orders, orders which, as we shall manage it, will be supposed favorable to the plans of the shogun.”

“But what of you?” asked Pertinax.

“I shall wish you well,” I said.

“No, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima.

“We shall not leave you,” said Pertinax.

“I have been disarmed,” I said.

“So, too, were we, at the gate,” said Pertinax.

“We can do nothing,” I said.

“We must try,” said Tajima.

“Before the Twentieth Ahn,” I said, “reach Ichiro, return to the camp, purchase time.”

“Only so much time can be purchased,” said Tajima.

“We can threaten the destruction of the holdings of Lord Yamada,” said Pertinax.

“That would not buy my freedom,” I said. “Lord Yamada will not risk me free and in command of the cavalry. I would no longer be in his power. I might lead it against him. Releasing me, he courts destruction. Holding me, it would be no worse. His intent is to keep me hostage, while the cavalry is employed in his interests.”

“Surely he has promised you its command,” said Pertinax.

“Implicitly, of course,” I said. “He is clever. He would dangle that bauble before me, having me on tarnback, in his service, and so on, but he will not do so. He is Yamada, and far from a fool.”

“He would not trust you?” said Pertinax.

“He is Yamada,” I said. “He is brilliant and charming, cunning and deceitful. He trusts no one.”

“He would not even permit you to feign the matter,” said Pertinax.

“Perhaps for his amusement, only that,” I said.

“What shall we do?” asked Pertinax.

“Prepare to receive gifts, promises, and smiles,” I said. “Lord Yamada is a gracious and generous host.”

“Someone approaches,” said Pertinax.

“A fop,” said Tajima, “brightly plumaged.”

“He is dangerous,” I said to Tajima.

“Surely not,” smiled Pertinax.

“Lord Yamada selects his daimyos with care,” I said.

“Greetings,” said Lord Akio, pleasantly.

“Lord Akio,” I said, “these are two friends, officers in the cavalry, Tajima and Pertinax. Tajima and Pertinax, allow me to introduce Lord Akio, a daimyo of Lord Yamada.”

Suitable bows were exchanged.

Lord Akio looked up, at the sky. “I think it may rain,” he said.

“It is now clear,” I said.

“It is the season,” he said.

“I see,” I said.

“Permit me to escort you to supper,” said Lord Akio.

“Gladly,” I said.

“But first,” he said, “we will stop by the slave pens.”

Chapter Nineteen

We Visit the Slave Pens;

Selections are Done

“Here,” said Lord Akio.

The large shed housing the pens was but a short walk from the courtyard; it was not unlike such sheds elsewhere in the vicinity, rudely planked, and low roofed, used for storage, and the stabling of beasts, verr, tarsk, and slaves. Some such sheds are also used for the housing of rice seedlings, which are later transferred to designated paddies, or wading fields. Harvested grains are commonly dried in the sun in Se’Kara, before the Seventh Passage Hand. Most rice is grown in village fields, several villages often under the rule of a single daimyo. These villages pay the rice tax, supplied primarily in produce, rice itself, to the daimyo, and the shogun receives his tax, usually in kind, as well, from the daimyos. Sometimes, too, the tax is supplied in terms of men, serving as porters, workers, and Ashigaru. Some villages, on the other hand, are under the rule of the shogun himself, so he profits both in virtue of a direct and an indirect tax. To be sure, silver, gold, and copper also function as means of exchange in the islands, either in the form of marked coinages or as plates and bars. Similarly various forms of produce other than rice may be taxed, exchanged by bartering, and so on. Fishing villages, of course, share portions of their catch, fresh, or dried, with their patrons and protectors, these goods gathered by low-level administrative officials. A great deal of the exchange in the islands is effected by barter. It was thus not all that unusual that many of the slaves of the holding of Lord Temmu had been exchanged for rice. What was unusual was the desperation on the part of the besieged to obtain rice, and the ratio of exchange, often as surprising as one
fukuro
for a slave.

“I shall, if you have no objection, wait outside, my friends,” said Lord Akio.