Kur of Gor

Chapter, the Fifty-Second: SMALL CAMPS HAVE BEEN FOUND ABANDONED

"Lita and I passed this way, days ago, from the cave,” said Cabot. “But now the small camps are deserted."

"Surely you understand what is happening?” said Grendel.

"No,” said Cabot. “I do see several bodies, rotted, no longer of interest even to birds, dangling, hanging from trees."

"The rebellion having been crushed,” said Lord Grendel, “Agamemnon can return his attention to the affairs of state."

"Where are the former inhabitants of the camps, those hundreds, those who waited to learn their fate, the forces defeated beyond the world, who came here in rout and dishonor?"

"They will have been congregated, beyond the habitats,” said Grendel. “To be given lengths of rope, or to submit themselves to the knife."

As may be recalled, the defeated forces of Agamemnon, the mariners who returned in the remnants of his ruined fleet, following his catastrophic, ill-starred attack on another of the worlds, had been denied access to the habitats. This was not unusual, under the circumstances, and represented common Kur practice. Kurii tend not to be tolerant of defeat, and feel that only the blood lines of victory should be maintained and propagated. Accordingly, the survivors of the defeat, or those amongst them who had been courageous enough to return to the world, to face the folk, and accept the consequences of their failure, had awaited their fate in a number of small camps. They would be given the options of self-destruction or submission to a surgical alteration which would guarantee they would never pollute the folk by the sowing of inferior seed. Many had already hung themselves in despondency and grief, unwilling to bear any longer the tarnish and stains of their dishonor. Others would accept the knife, accepting it as a warranted and appropriate penalty or punishment, one suitable to their heinous fault, one commensurate with their just deserts. Following the procedure they would be banished to the company, if any, of nondominants.

"This is a madness,” said Cabot.

"You are not Kur,” said Lord Grendel.

"Agamemnon was not defending the world,” said Cabot. “His act was one of aggression, or such, one which, I suspect, was unprovoked."

"Do you not understand it?” asked Grendel.

"Speak,” said Cabot.

"Agamemnon is the rival amongst the worlds of a great general, and vies to be first amongst the worlds, the leader of the several worlds."

"There are several such leaders, generals, are there not?” asked Cabot.

"Yes,” said Grendel, “but one was most feared by Agamemnon, one whom he wished to deal with first, one whom he long pretended to befriend, but one whom he suspected well comprehended his ambitions and machinations, one whom he then conveyed from the world, ignominiously, daring to do no more at the time, and then proceeded to lay his plans, and supply and ready his fleet."

"I know the general, I am sure,” said Cabot.

"It could have been any one of a number,” said Grendel.

"But it was not,” said Cabot.

"No,” said Grendel.

"And so the mariners of the camps are to suffer for the miscalculations and mistakes, the reckless, vain ambition, the poorly laid plans, the rash, ill-fated, unjustified, personal adventure of a tyrant?"

"Certainly,” said Lord Grendel.

"I see,” said Cabot.

"It is such things,” said Lord Grendel, “which, particularly when successful, shape the histories of worlds. The sword is the plow which furrows the soil of the future. Those who do not defend themselves die, and fall amongst the litter of their virtues. Without the spear there is no peace. Only blood can slake the thirst for violence."

"You are Kur,” said Cabot, bitterly.

"I do not think you are so different,” said Lord Grendel.

"I would spare these mariners, these soldiers,” said Cabot.

"Interestingly,” mused Lord Grendel, “so, too, would I."

"How then are you Kur?” said Cabot.

"What is Kur?” said Lord Grendel.