Swordsmen of Gor (47 page)

I would have thought it well to have warned the walled-in, dangerous, doubtless panic-stricken prisoners of the hut of the intention of the besiegers, that they might consider the wisdom of surrender, but they were extended no such cordiality.

“No,” said Tajima, now at my side, as I moved to approach the hut.

“They will be burned alive,” said Pertinax, with horror.

The roof took the fire almost instantly, raging like tinder.

“Let Lord Nishida be notified,” I urged, “that he may intervene.”

“That is Lord Nishida,” said Tajima, indicating the figure in the fearsome mask with the bloodied sword.

“It cannot be,” I said.

“It is,” said Tajima.

“But his sword is bloodied,” I protested.

“Lord Nishida is a great warrior,” said Tajima.

“He fights, he, sword to sword?” I asked.

“Certainly,” said Tajima. “It is our way. Who would follow another?”

“Take prisoners!” I said.

“We do not require prisoners,” said Tajima.

In common Gorean warfare it is not unknown for prisoners to be taken. They may be interrogated, worked, sold, and such. Too, occasionally, if important, and of station, they may be ransomed. The Pani, it seemed, might take prisoners but seldom did so. Sometimes prisoners were tortured, and crucified, presumably primarily as examples to terrify enemies, reduce the temptation to sedition, and such. A common form of Gorean execution is impalement. The Pani regarded this as barbarous, but looked lightly on crucifixion. Such things apparently vary culturally. Perhaps one reason the Pani are not prone to making prisoners is that it is thought that the prisoner might be expected, if honorable, to end his own life, to erase his shame at having fallen into the hands of the enemy, and thus, if this is so, he might as well be spared this indignity by being granted an earlier surcease. Also, if heads are prized, and important with respect to advancement, and such, this militates against taking prisoners. An interesting exception to this sort of thing is that a prisoner, or one on the verge of capture, may be accorded the right to accept a new
daimyo
or
shogun
. Once he does this he is then honor bound to serve the new leader, as he did the old, and, it seems, he may be depended on to do so. He is not a mercenary, but he is a loyal follower, whomsoever he follows. The prime reason for not taking prisoners, or not making it that much of a common practice, if this should be truly so, is probably that the male prisoner is dangerous. He is feared, and perhaps wisely. Thus it seems supposed that he might be well done away with. Similarly, as in several periods in the Middle Ages on Earth, prisoners were done away with, there being no satisfactory provisions for their incarceration, particularly in the field, no prisoner cages, or such.

Screams emanated from the burning hut.

“Take prisoners!” I cried.

“Subside, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima. “They would have killed us. We will kill them.”

The door was suddenly flung open, from the inside.

A fellow, clothes aflame, shielding his eyes, stumbled from the hut and was cut down, from each side.

Smoke billowed from the hut. The walls were afire.

Another fellow, coughing, burst into the open, and ran two or three paces, and was cut down. Another followed him, and was similarly dealt with.

I think the fellows in the hut were blinded with the smoke, and burned. Two more emerged, to be cut down.

I looked within the hut, and the roof fell in, turning the enclosure into a furnace. I saw two or more dark shapes like shadows, silhouetted in the flames. Two more rushed from the hut, and died. One or two remained inside, and fell in the midst of the flaming branches, unable, I supposed, to reach the door. There was screaming for a few Ihn, and then it was quiet, save for the crackling of the flames.

The figure in the hideous, horned, masklike helmet removed it, and faced me. “You have come to report?” he inquired.

“The sky is ours,” I informed Lord Nishida.

“Some will have escaped,” he speculated.

“Yes,” I said. “They fled. They separated. They were many. We were few. We could not kill them all.”

“Unfortunate,” said Lord Nishida. “Our plans must now be advanced.”

I did not understand this.

Others approached, and Lord Nishida politely received their reports, as well. The camp was clear, it seemed, save for one or two huts, which would be soon attended to.

Lord Nishida turned to me. “We are pleased, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

I bowed, acknowledging this compliment.

“Now,” smiled Lord Nishida, “it seems a feast, a victory feast, would be in order, when things are done, and matters cleared, of course, a feast in, say, a day or two, after the day’s work. Is it not the Gorean way?”

“Perhaps,” I said, “if a watch is kept, and sufficient men are armed and at hand, to prevent unpleasant surprises, and such.”

Most such feasts, of course, take place within a holding within the environing walls of a city, perhaps one over which the tarn wire still sways in the wind, not in the open, not in a camp.

“It is unfortunate,” he said, “that we have not captured suitable numbers of the enemy’s free women, that they might serve such a feast naked.”

“Yes,” I said.

“That is the Gorean way, is it not?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, “but I suspect that it is also a way not unknown to the Pani.”

He smiled.

“It seems, Lord,” I said, “we are short of such serving maids.”

It is common to have the women of the enemy serve such a feast naked. It is one of the pleasures of victory. The women may either be collared prior to their service or not. It is usually thought best to save their collaring for later. That they should serve such a feast while still free is thought to shame them excellently, and to teach them that even the glorious free women of the defeated are worthy only to be the naked servitors, and later slaves, of the victorious.

“I trust the slaves are well, and in hand,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida. “Doubtless you are concerned with your pretty Cecily.”

“She is well curved,” I said.

“Even now,” said Lord Nishida, “she is within a ring, her small hands upon the rope.”

This was a reference to the “rope circle.” In the “rope circle,” a single rope is tied about a group of slaves, either kneeling or standing, at their belly. The hands of each slave must then grasp the rope and may not, until permitted, release the rope. This holds a group of slaves together, nicely.

“How fares the blond-haired, blue-eyed slave whom I believe is now named ‘Saru’?” asked Lord Nishida of me.

“The stable slut?” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“I have not seen her in weeks,” I said.

“Doubtless the honorable Pertinax, tarnsman, has more recent news,” said Lord Nishida.

I recalled that Lord Nishida had had plans for the former Miss Margaret Wentworth.

“No, Lord,” said Pertinax, “I have not seen her since the pavilion, when you remanded her to the tharlarion stable.”

“That seems strange to me,” said Lord Nishida.

Pertinax shrugged.

“My fellow, Pertinax, I fear,” I said to Lord Nishida, “fears to look upon her.”

“‘Fears’?” inquired Lord Nishida.

Pertinax reddened.

“Much of him,” I said, “remains of Earth. He fears, I think, that he would succumb to her charms, that she would manipulate and dominate him, that she would easily bend him to her will, that she would make of him much what she once made of him, her slave.”

“The slave of a slave?” smiled Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

“Surely, Pertinax,” said Lord Nishida, “you know her neck is in a collar.”

Pertinax nodded.

“Even so,” I said, “the beauty of a woman, a tear in her eye, the trembling of a lip, such things, are formidable weapons.”

“Until she is suitably mastered,” said Lord Nishida.

“True,” I said.

“Perhaps she should be whipped,” said Lord Nishida. “The whip is useful in convincing a woman she is a slave. Perhaps if she were weeping, and squirming, and begging for mercy, under a whip, she would no longer be in doubt as to what she was.”

“I think she is in no doubt as to her bondage,” I said. “I am sure the grooms in the stable have seen to that. The fear is that she might not know herself a slave before Pertinax, that she might attempt to use the subtle wiles of Earth, guilt, and such, to work her will in a hundred ways upon him.”

“And perhaps the honorable Pertinax fears she might prove successful in such endeavors?”

“I think so,” I said.

“Then he is weak,” said Lord Nishida.

“He fought well today,” I said.

“One who is strong in one way may be weak in another,” said Lord Nishida.

“True,” I said.

How many men are conquered by a look cast over a shoulder, by a smile! Some men are drunk on kaissa, others on power, others on kanda, others on paga. I recalled a warrior, on a Steel World, who, in misery and futility, once risked ruin, harkening to the siren lure of a swirling, golden beverage.

“Be a master,” I said to Pertinax.

He looked down.

“No woman can find herself,” I said, “until she finds herself at the feet of a master.”

Pertinax regarded me.

“And the slave, Saru,” I said, “is no different.”

“By now, the hair of the slave should be grown out a bit,” said Lord Nishida. “Had I realized that our plans must be advanced, I would have had it cropped, and not shaved.”

I knew nothing of his plans.

I did know he had anticipated giving Saru to an important individual, a
shogun
. I had no doubt that cleaned up, and trained, whip trained, and otherwise, that she would be likely to make a lovely gift. Her coloring and such would be, I gathered, unusual amongst the Pani, and her slave fires, as I had determined, had already been nicely ignited.

She was now a slave.

She needed men.

Without them she would be in torment.

I hoped that Pertinax, from his absurd conditioning on Earth, would not scorn her for her vitality, and needs. Her belly was now hot, and alive, even piteously so. Rather, let him accept her now as what she was, and now only was, a slave. A Gorean male, of course, is not surprised by female needs. He may not expect such things in a free woman, but he does expect such things in a slave. The repressed free woman, struggling against her own sexual nature, often in misery, may scorn the slave, whom she envies, for her needs, but the master, naturally, does not. He accepts them. They are exactly what he expects in a given form of merchandise, a property girl, a collar slut, a luscious, needful, obedient, owned female, a slave.

“Do you think,” asked Lord Nishida, “that the slave, Saru, is ready to leave the stable?”

“I am sure of it,” I said. “I am confident she will be eager to leave the stable, and will strive desperately, in all ways, to avoid being returned to it.”

“Good,” said Lord Nishida. “I will have her prepared. Perhaps she may serve at the feast, scrubbed clean and naked.” He turned to Pertinax. “Would you like that?” he asked.

Pertinax looked down, reddening.

“How of Earth he is,” commented Lord Nishida.

I shrugged.

“You will be present, of course,” he said.

“I would be honored,” I said.

“Your colleagues may accompany you,” said Lord Nishida.

“We are honored,” I assured him.

“There will be many tables,” said Lord Nishida.

“The men will be pleased,” I said.

“Guards must be posted,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

“Unfortunately,” said Lord Nishida, “our friends did not bring free women with them.”

“No,” I said.

Sometimes overconfident forces do bring free women with them, camp followers, courtesans, and such, and, even, not unoften, highly placed free women, to companion high officers, preside over victory feasts, have the first chance to bid amongst the women of the enemy for serving slaves, and such. Indeed, some accompany such campaigns as an escape from boredom, if nothing else, apparently in search of thrills and adventures. If unable to observe actions from remote, secure, and convenient heights, by means of the glasses of the Builders, they remain behind, in their silken tents, awaiting the announcements of victory, in the keeping of camp guards. Sometimes, of course, things do not go well, and they must forsake their heights, now being swept by the enemy, and flee downward, in terror, scattering to the grassy valleys, running before mounted foes intent on collecting them. About them they hear the squeals of kaiila, the shouting of men, the shrieks of their sisters, the sudden pounding of paws in the grass behind them, and then the bright sound of a flighted, swirling, belled capture net. And later those in the camp rejoice, seeing the dust approaching, which they take for the rapid, joyful return of their forces, triumphant. But the camp guards have reconnoitered, and have hurriedly departed, that their swords may be saved for the defense of their Home Stone. And then the women discover the camp is surrounded, and invaded, and then tents are afire, and then men are about, rude strangers, laughing and shouting. Coffers are being forced open, and precious vessels, and handfuls of coins and jewelry, are being seized; silken hangings are draped on brawny arms; amphorae are unearthed; the odor of paga pervades the camp, and common warriors, perhaps for the first time, taste rare ka-la-na, guzzling it like kal-da. The women, then, of whatever station, whether low-born or high, whether of high caste or low, together with camp slaves, are herded to the center of the blackened, smoldering camp, where all must, at a word, disrobe themselves, both bond and free, to be assessed, as though in a field market. One woman speaks imperiously to a slave, as is her wont, and, to her astonishment, and pain, is slapped. And then, later, the free women, who thought to feast this night in a conquered city, are led in coffle, naked, hastened by whips, through alien gates.

“How then will the feast be served?” inquired Tajima.

“By women,” said Lord Nishida. “What else are they good for?”

“Pleasure,” I suggested.