Swordsmen of Gor

Chapter Eighteen FIGHTING CONTINUES; WE REPORT TO LORD NISHIDA; THE STABLE

I brought the tarn down, to the field of training, followed by Tajima and Pertinax, and Ichiro, my first, or lead, signalman.

Shortly afterward Torgus, with his bannerman and guard, alit, and Lysander, too, with his bannerman and first twenty.

My major officers were then with me.

We had perhaps a century of men either on the ground or in the air, in the vicinity. Several were doubtless still in pursuit of fugitives.

“We are victorious!” cried Torgus, pleased, dismounted, holding the reins of his tarn.

“Swords still cross,” I informed him, looking about.

Smoke rolled upward from the housing area, from beyond the narrow track which led to the Plaza of Training.

“Let them come to us!” laughed Torgus, sweeping an arm back, indicating the crowded plaza.

Tarns screamed. Dust swirled, raised by war and the beating wings of tarns, the gigantic, monstrous saddle birds of Gor. Here and there my fellows were still at their work. Enemies spun about, encircled, fenced by lances, thence to be pierced by arrows. I saw an Anangan dart lodge itself in a fellow’s throat, who tried to pull it free, and, blood bursting from the neck, he sprawled into the dust, the vessel of the artery exposed, as it had caught behind the point of the dart, which point is broad, and barbed. In two or three places men fought, interestingly, with blades. I saw one fellow’s spine severed as he tried to mount the saddle ladder of an unguarded tarn. There was shouting. Some tarns were being led away by my men, to be secured in our cots.

“They will,” said Tajima.

As the tarns of the dismounted enemy were on the plaza of training, and we now held that ground, they had no access to the tarns without challenging us. Some were now coming down the track which led from the housing area to the training area, burdened with loot, some leading bound, leashed, female slaves. Muchly were they then dismayed to realize the training area was occupied. Several understood their peril and abandoned their loot, and slaves, and, drawing their weapons, hurried toward the waiting birds. Here, however, my men, now well outnumbering their foe, withdrew before them, if on foot, only to circle them, suddenly, like pack sleen, and fire arrows into backs or sides, whatever area might be clear of the shield. Some had recourse to the lances, to fend them back, while others used their bows or Anangan darts. It was much like the tactics of the air, but employed upon the ground. Engage, if possible, only when it is to your advantage, I had cautioned them. When charged they melted away only to reform again in a circle of death, where the turning warrior, confused and frightened, could defend himself on only one side. Few of our fellows could have stood up singly to such an enemy but, like harrying pack sleen, could easily deal severally with him. Too, some of our fellows, still on tarnback, their tarns on the ground, used their arrows to advantage. If approached, they merely pulled on the one-strap and hovered in the air, to fire further. Some other strikes were made from the air with the temwood lances.

“Cowards! Cowards!” cried one of the warriors, turning about, wildly. But then he fell, pierced by a dozen arrows.

He who would throw himself into the jaws of a larl may not be a coward, but he is surely a fool.

Some of the enemy then turned about, to flee back to the shelter of the trees and, momentarily, the housing area. Few reached the track, even backing away. Others fled into the forest, beyond the wands. I heard the roar of larls, and screams, from north of the track.

I would keep men on the field, for I was not sure of the number of enemies that might be left in the area.

There were many bodies about, the debris of war, distributed in accord with a fray’s whims. Few were in our gray.

The foe, it seemed, had not fared well, neither in the sky nor, as far as I could determine, on the ground.

“There are no prisoners?” I asked a fellow, one of the Pani.

“No,” he said.

I thought no more of this at the time.

I called to my side Tajima and Pertinax, and some dozen or so mercenaries, who well knew the sword.

“I suspect there is work to be done,” I said.

“I think so,” said Tajima.

“You are learning the blade,” I said to Pertinax. “Are you ready to use it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Truly?” I asked, regarding him closely.

“I think so,” he said.

“Bucklers and blades,” I said to the mercenaries.

I secured my own buckler from the saddle.

“You, too, buckler and blade,” I said to Tajima and Pertinax. It is true the blade may be used for both offense and defense, but I would not trust it against a flighted quarrel.

“Nodachi,” said Tajima, “could deflect a quarrel with the blade of even a companion sword.”

“And do you possess his skills?” I asked.

“No,” said Tajima.

“Fetch your buckler,” I said to him.

“Yes, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

The edged buckler, of course, as in the arena, is an offensive weapon, as well as a defensive one.

I put Torgus in command.

“We will report to Lord Nishida,” I said to Tajima.

“It is well,” he said.

At that moment, running toward us, then stopping short, was one of the enemy.

“Please, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Tajima, politely, “may I have him?”

“Yes,” I said. And then I said to Pertinax, “observe.”

It was done very quickly.

“Do not do swords with Tajima,” I said to Pertinax.

“He despises me,” said Pertinax.

“No,” I said, “for as of this afternoon you have ridden together.”

“We are rivals,” said Pertinax.

“Are you interested in Sumomo?” I asked.

“Who is Sumomo?” he asked.

“You are not rivals,” I assured him.

“My skills increase,” said Pertinax.

“Good,” I said. “See that they are employed properly.”

I then, with some dozen or so men, mercenaries, together with Tajima and Pertinax, addressed myself to the path which led to the housing area. We had not been on the track for more than a handful of Ihn, however, moving rapidly but circumspectly, lest crossbowmen be about, when we heard shouts before us, and we saw some dozen or so of the Pani Ashigaru, with their glaives, approaching.

“It seems we will not need our blades,” said Tajima.

“Resistance is at an end,” said one of my fellows.

“The camp is clear,” said another.

“Do not be certain of that,” I said. I conjectured that enclaves of war might linger. More dangerous would be foes who were unseen, who, frenzied, and terrified, might be here and there, in hiding.

Then we had come to the housing area.

“I would see if Sumomo is alive,” said Tajima.

“You are dismissed,” I informed my pantherine associate, and he bowed, briefly, and hurried away, toward the area of Lord Nishida’s still-burning pavilion.

I anticipated no resistance in the open areas.

I saw some Pani about. Some had heads fastened at their belt.

I saw no prisoners.

I heard a scream from within one of the huts about the periphery.

“Should we not concern ourselves with Cecily and Jane?” asked Pertinax.

“You mean Saru, do you not?” I asked.

“With slaves,” said Pertinax.

“War is first,” I told him.

“Duty?” he said.

“Certainly,” I said. “But do not fear for them. Female slaves are not slain, no more than verr or kaiila.”

“They are animals?” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said, “and the sooner you learn that then you will relate to them the more appropriately.”

“As animals?”

“Of course,” I said, “as the lovely animals they are.”

“Speaking, feeling animals?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “the best sort.”

“What if they were free?” he asked.

“Then they would be priceless,” I said.

“Then one might concern oneself?” he asked.

“Eventually,” I said.

“But war, duty, is first,” he said.

“Certainly,” I said. “But remember that even the free woman is only a woman.”

“I see,” he said.

“Do not fear,” I said. “Only the insane would kill a woman. There are better things to do with a woman than kill her.”

“What?” he asked.

“Capture, collar, and master her,” I said.

“I see,” he said.

“In the collar,” I said, “they learn they are women.”

“And what is a woman?” he asked.

“A slave,” I said, “though not all are in collars.”

“All women are slaves?” he said.

“Yes,” I said, “though not all are in collars.”

I thought of a high woman, one who was, or had been, the daughter of a Ubar. I recalled her from the Plaza of Tarns, in conquered Ar, where she, a traitress, had been installed as a puppet Ubara. I had watched her consign woman after woman as booty to the victors, though under the guise of an allegedly reparational bondage, an act of justice, to compensate for the faults and crimes of her city, in this carefully selecting out, amongst others, her critics or enemies, such as the beautiful Claudia Tentia Hinrabia, the daughter of a former administrator of Ar. How imperiously she had reveled in that modicum of power accorded to her by the occupational forces of Tyros and Cos!

To one side a group of Pani were considering a hut. The door had been shut, and, I supposed, blocked from the inside.

In the midst of the Pani before the hut was a figure who wore a large, masklike helmet, whose features could not be discerned. Most of the Pani helmets, on the other hand, were open, though winged, that is, were rimmed to the sides and back, with something like a descending metal brim. They, like Gorean warriors, wore no visible body armor, as this defensive device was contrary to the rulings of Priest-Kings. I have never understood, perfectly, why this was so, but there are two major theories, which I might mention. The first theory would seem to presuppose a historical origin, though perhaps one rather idiosyncratic. In ancient times, on Earth, surely in the Homeric era, at least, it seems the defensive accouterments of the warrior often consisted of a helmet and shield, and the offensive accouterments of a sword and spear. Body armor was rare, and doubtless expensive, and, it seems, many warriors, even by preference, went into battle nude, save for helmet and shield. One gathers this from ancient sculpture, if from no other source. The most likely explanation for this, if it is true, as it seems to be, would presumably be to lighten and free the body to the greatest extent possible for great exertion and quick movement. Even much later Gauls encountered by Caesar’s legions, at least occasionally, seem to have gone into battle with little but a golden neck band, these being prized as loot by victorious legionnaires. One supposes that some warriors might have supposed, as well, that their foes might have been intimidated by their scorn for body armor, or perhaps they regarded, interestingly, body armor as effeminate or unworthy a courageous warrior, who should not fear wounding or death. Perhaps even vanity or preening entered into such matters. It is hard to know. In any event, body armor, in time, became rather general in warfare on Earth. Its use declined with the widely spread utilization of gunpowder, particularly as its quality improved, and advances were made in connection with its packaging and delivery, cartridges, rifled barrels, and such. For example, in two major wars on Earth in the Twentieth Century, body armor was generally unknown, with the exception of the helmet. Later, with new developments in metallurgy, moving toward lightness and strength, it became, once more, rather general, at least where it might be affordable. There are often “arms races,” so to speak, in such matters, in which an improvement in offense spurs an improvement in defense, and so on. In any event, the historical explanation, for what it is worth, is that Priest-Kings arranged their laws in such matters based on indulgently codifying what they took to be current human practices in such matters. Few Gorean warriors, incidentally, go into battle nude, but male nudity is not as uncommon on Gor as it is on Earth. For example, it is not unknown for Gorean laborers, if engaged in heavy work on hot days, and so on, to work nude. Most people do not think much about this, one way or another. The human body, on Gor, is not regarded as shameful. Even Gorean women of high caste, who are commonly robed and veiled in public, do not regard bodies as shameful. That would be absurd for a Gorean. They do, however, usually, regard their bodies as special and provocative, and exquisitely private, and certainly not for public viewing. The Gorean free woman then does not think of her body as something to be hidden for reasons of shame but as something to be hidden for reasons of propriety. As is well known the usual Gorean free woman is more concerned with the concealment of her facial features than her body. Her face is much more revealing of herself than her body. It might be noted, in passing, that the face of the female slave must be bared publicly. This is a difference between her and the free woman. Anyone may look upon the face of a female slave with impunity, as much as upon a verr or kaiila. She is, of course, enslaved, an animal. Also, she is usually garbed briefly and provocatively. This is, I suppose, not only to distinguish her, and dramatically, from the free woman, with whom she must not be confused, but because she is usually owned by men, and men enjoy seeing the beauty of women. Also, it is difficult to conceal weapons in a slave tunic. Indeed, the slave herself is scarcely concealed.

The second major theory proposed to explain the ban of Priest-Kings on body armor is that the Priest-Kings, in their benign concern for human beings, one of the diverse life forms with which they stocked the planet, thought the banning of body armor would reduce injury and conflict, that it would lead humans to abandon war as too dangerous and perilous of pursuit by a rational organism. If this is the case, it seemed they may have overestimated the rationality of the human species, or underestimated the lengths to which it might go to acquire land, wealth, women, and other valuables. A variant on this theory, though one less benign, or misguided, is that the regulation from the Sardar was intended to help keep the numbers of human beings on the planet in check, that it functioned, in a sense, as a populational control device. They might have been less inclined to use other devices, say, disease, because of the danger of a mutation which might affect the denizens of the Sardar, sooner or later, as well. To be sure, other theories might be proposed, too, for example that warfare conducted under such conditions might tend to improve the species, selecting for, say, intelligence, quickness, agility, and so on. It might be noted that on the planet Earth war would seem to be counterproductive along these lines, as, on the whole, the healthy and robust do the fighting and the sickly, weak, and frail remain behind to replicate their genes.

Whatever the truth may be in these matters the Priest-Kings, as is their wont, did not explain the rationale for their rulings. They do enforce them, however, mercilessly, with the Flame Death. Perhaps the rulings on body armor were not even particularly rationally motivated, at all; perhaps they were the result of a random notion or an idiosyncratic whim on the part of one or more Priest-Kings. Whatever the case may be the rulings, as in the case of certain forbidden developments or innovations in weaponry and communication, and such, are in place.

You may recall that I had heard a scream issuing from one of the huts. I now saw one of the Pani emerging from the hut, carrying a head.

These heads were clearly trophies of a sort. For example, a warrior might win favor from his daimyo or shogun by garnering heads, this understood as a proof of prowess in war. In such a way one might earn promotion, land, gifts, preferments, and such. I would also later learn that these heads, particularly if one of a celebrated foe, might be treasured, and kept indefinitely, the hair being carefully combed and dressed, the head being perfumed, the teeth painted black, and so on. The blackness of teeth was apparently regarded as cosmetically appealing. Indeed, certain beauties of the Pani, I would learn, blackened their teeth to enhance their charms. To be sure, neither of the contract women of Lord Nishida, one of whom was Sumomo, who was apparently of interest to Tajima, and the other of whom was Hana, as I later discovered, I was pleased to note, had adopted this practice.

He in the helmet mask turned toward me, and I saw that the mask, in design and color, was garish. Too, it was horned. The entire effect was that of a hideous face, as of some frightful creature, or monster of sorts, surely not even a human face.

“That is Nodachi,” I speculated. Pertinax was at my side, and would presumably be familiar with that individual. I myself had never seen this mysterious and, it seemed, almost legendary, figure.

“No,” said Pertinax.

Although the gaze of the figure was upon me, it gave no sign of recognition.

“Bow,” whispered Pertinax.

“Of course,” I thought to myself. There are understandings in such things. I am not even of the Pani. I understand very little of this. Pertinax may be more informed than I, having profited from the tutelage of Nodachi. It did seem to me that the fellow in the helmet mask, as it was the only contrivance of its sort in view, might be important. I am not of the Pani, I reminded myself. I will be expected to bow first. There is a complex order in such matters.

And so I bowed, and lifted my sword, in a warrior’s salute.

This business on my part was accepted, it seemed, for the individual returned my bow, though less deeply, and then turned away.

I did note that his sword, the long sword, with its beautifully curved blade, and its tasseled hilt, suitable for a two-handed grasp, was bloodied.

I took him to be a high officer, of which there were several in camp. From the mask, the stature, the carriage, the nature of his garments, the tone of the skin, I took him to be Pani.

I looked about, wondering on the whereabouts of Lord Nishida.

Even as I did so, to my right, his pavilion collapsed, crashing downward in a sudden flurry of sparks and smoke, then settling into a mass of flaming planks, timbers, and panels.

I regretted the loss of the pavilion.

It had been a small, but a beautiful, and exotic, building, and might have been more suitably situated not in a rude camp, but, withdrawn, in a sheltered garden.

I trusted Lord Nishida had escaped the firing of his pavilion. I supposed he would not have been personally sought, as the archer who had attacked him may well have reported him slain. Lord Nishida had impressed me as being politically astute, and coldly subtle, but also as constituting an epitome of a civilized gentleman, at least relative to his own background, or lights. Certainly I recalled his interest, manifested in his interviewing of the former Miss Margaret Wentworth, in the delicacies of flower arrangements, tea ceremonials, and such. Such a sensitive and delicate gentleman, and particularly one so important, I hoped, at the first sign of trouble, would have been hurried to a location of safety, and a guard set about him to protect his person. One such as he was not to be risked. I did assume him safe. If he had come to harm I had little doubt that that would have been broadcast in the camp, and a new leader made known.

The Pani made no effort to save the pavilion. It was lost. It burned lower now. The smoke filled the air.

To one side I saw two women in their kimonos, with their small steps, being ushered forward by one of the Ashigaru. I supposed they had been concealed somewhere. I took them to be Sumomo and Hana. They were being brought into the open, I supposed, for their security. We controlled this area. Buildings might be especially dangerous. Fugitives might take shelter within them, turning them into small fortresses. One would not wish them to be seized as hostages, though I did not think the Pani would be excessively concerned with them, as they might be replaced, I supposed, with others. On the other hand, I was sure they would be taken as of greater value than, say, a common collar girl.

I caught sight of Tajima, now, again, in the clearing. He approached Sumomo. She turned away. Though she was a female, and he a male, and though she was a contract woman, and he free, she had not bowed to him.

I understood this to be an insult of some sort, and I noted that Tajima’s body, briefly, stiffened with rage. He then remained standing, where he was, where he had been rebuffed, looking after Sumomo, who was now with Hana, facing away from him, several feet from him, not far from the smoldering embers of Lord Nishida’s collapsed, blackened pavilion.

“I fear the contract woman,” I said, “did not treat Tajima well.”

“She has nothing to fear,” said Pertinax.

“She may have more to fear than she understands,” I said.

“I do not understand,” said Pertinax.

“It is nothing,” I said.

“Her contract is held by Lord Nishida,” said Pertinax.

“Contracts may change hands, be purchased, and such,” I said.

“Doubtless,” said Pertinax.

“Why should she treat Tajima badly?” I asked.

“Doubtless for the same reason that the Lady Portia Lia Serisia of Sun Gate Towers would, if she dared, not treat Pertinax well,” said Pertinax.

“You are referring, incorrectly, I take it,” I said, “to a meaningless slave, your Jane, in her collar, who must now obey, fetch, and serve, unquestioningly.”

“Yes,” he said, “to my slave, Jane.”

“Your insolent slave,” I said.

“Yes,” he said.

“No slave is insolent,” I said, “whom you do not permit to be insolent.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“That lovely brat still has to learn her collar,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Do not fear to use the switch, or whip,” I said. “The slave learns quickly to respond to its discipline, to its swift, informative, lashing sting, its sudden monitory caress on her soft, smooth skin.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Certainly,” I said. “The next time your Jane’s behavior, in any way, whether verbal, physical, or attitudinal, asks for such a stroke, or even seems that it might ask for such a stroke, see that she receives it. You will learn shortly thereafter that her behavior will then seldom ask for such a stroke, or even seem to ask for such a stroke.”

“She will learn to fear, and will then attempt to avoid, the stoke,” he said.

“Certainly,” I said.

“A switch in time saves nine?” he smiled.

“You could put it that way,” I said. “The sooner she kneels before you and sees you as her master, the better for the both of you.”

“She as slave, I as master,” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “How can she be slave, if you are not master?”

“I fear I lack the courage, the strength, to be a master,” he said.

“Then sell her to another,” I said, “who will treat her as she deserves, and, in her heart, desires to be treated.”

He was silent, angry.

What man, after all, does not, in his deepest heart, want to own a woman? What could begin to compare with such a property?

Perhaps, I thought, he has dreamed of another woman, a different slave, his, helpless at his feet?

Would he have the courage, the will, the determination, the kindness, the compassion, I wondered, to put her at his feet, keep her there without the least compromise, and fulfill her?

“Why should Sumomo not respect Tajima?” I asked. “Or Jane Pertinax?”

“Perhaps because we are weak,” said Pertinax.

“I do not think so,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Pertinax, “because neither of us speak Gorean natively, perhaps because neither of us was born to this world. We are seen as different, as barbarians.”

“I, too,” I said, “would be such a barbarian.”

“No,” he said, “you are Gorean.”

“Tajima,” I said, “is now of Gor.”

“I do not think Sumomo understands that,” said Pertinax.

“A dangerous misunderstanding,” I said.

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Pertinax,” I said, “may one day, too, be of Gor.”

“It is not easy to be of Gor,” said Pertinax.

“At one time, long ago,” I said, “none were of Gor.”

“Now, many?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Is it good to be of Gor?” asked Pertinax.

“That question can be asked only by one who does not know Gor,” I said.

“I do not understand,” said Pertinax.

“Is it good to be alive?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Pertinax.

“Then you sense Gor,” I said. “Once one has known Gor, one is alive. Once one has known Gor, one never goes back.”

“Tajima is now approaching,” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said. Sumomo, I noted, perhaps alerted by Hana, had turned about, to watch Tajima withdraw. She seemed amused. Tajima did not look back at her. My pantherine associate did not seem pleased. Although his face was a careful study in composure, there was a tightness about the jaw, a rigidity, that bespoke a rage and shame he was too proud to display. He had been genuinely concerned with the safety and welfare of the contract woman, Sumomo. His concern had seemingly been scorned, perhaps even mocked. Certainly, from the looks of it, he had been treated badly, very badly. I suspected he now viewed the contract woman differently, doubtless now as less worthy of his concern, which he would now recognize had been seriously misplaced. Had we been elsewhere on Gor and she branded and naked in a slave cage I did not doubt but what he would bid on her, and soon, doubtless regardless of the cost, would have her on his chain. She might then look forward to a perfect and exquisite bondage at his feet, one from which he would see to it that he derived much satisfaction. To be sure, there was little prospect of this, as Sumomo’s contract was held by Lord Nishida. And doubtless the proud Sumomo was only too well aware of this fact. Within the fortress of etiquette and custom she doubtless supposed herself to repose secure. I supposed it would take some time for Tajima to nurse his wounds. And the deepest of wounds, we note, do not always bleed. Too, the Pani have long memories.

Tajima had now joined us.

“You saw?” asked Tajima.

“Sumomo belongs in a collar,” I said.

“She is Pani,” said Tajima.

“Doubtless some women of the Pani are in collars,” I said.

“Yes,” he said, “primarily women of enemy houses. Taken, they may be reduced to collar girls.”

“Enemy houses?” I asked.

But Tajima was silent.

I suspected, but did not remark it, that Sumomo’s treatment of Tajima might have obscure motivations, motivations more subtle and deeper than a mere scorn for one she might despise as having been extracted from an alien world. I suspected she was fighting irresistibilities within herself, longings to feel his switch, curiosities as to what it might be to kneel naked before him and press her lips upon his bared feet, what it might be to writhe in his arms, helpless, and owned, as only a woman may be owned, owned to the tiniest tremor of her subdued and surrendered heart, to the last obedient cell of her mastered body.

I did not speak these things, of course, to Tajima.

We turned our attention to the door of the closed, presumably blockaded hut.

Several of the Pani with the masked figure had now ranged themselves on either side of the door of the hut.

I did see, briefly, a frightened face within, in the small, open window, to one side of the door.

The figure in the hideous mask-helmet, with the bloodied sword, gave a sign and several Ashigaru fetched brands from the fallen, now-smoking pavilion, and hurled them to the dried branches with which the hut was roofed.

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.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida, “that, too, is a purpose of women.”

“By slaves, of course,” I said.

“Alas, yes,” said Lord Nishida. “We must make do with slaves. To be sure, we might free them all, have them serve, as free women, and then recollar them.”

“I think slaves will do,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida. “Why should a slave be granted even a moment of freedom?”

I include, in passing, for those who might find it of interest, the following brief, ritual dialogue, in the form of a simple question and answer, which, in certain cities, is not unusual between a master and his slave.

“What are you for?”

“To serve you, and give you pleasure, Master.”

This exchange usually takes place in the morning, when the girl first kneels before the master.

In a sense, it begins her day. Too, of course, it may be required at any time, say before meals, before serving wine, before bedding her, putting her to use, and so on.

I supposed Tajima had been interested in whether or not Sumomo might serve at such a feast.

She would not.

She was a contract woman, and above such vulgar applications.

Then, far off, several hundred yards away, we heard the bellowing of tharlarion.

The men of Lord Nishida had been methodically examining each structure in both the housing area and those surrounding the Plaza of Training.

“It seems urts have been discovered in the stable,” said Tajima.

“They are trying to cover their flight by stampeding tharlarion!” said Pertinax.

From where we stood we could see the lumbering bulks of crowded tharlarion, buffeting one another, moving from the stable. We saw Ashigaru in the vicinity with glaives. Another figure or two, also, was seen, mixed in with the tharlarion. One, I thought, fell, and was trampled.

“Margaret! Margaret!” cried Pertinax, wildly, and, turning about, ran toward the stable.

“With your permission?” I asked Lord Nishida.

“Certainly,” he said.

Tajima and I then, following Pertinax, hurried toward the stable. We were followed by some mercenaries, and glaive-bearing Ashigaru.