Marauders of Gor

Chapter 3 I make the acquaitance of Ivar Forkbeard and book passage on his ship

Screaming pierced my ears.

I was almost thrown from my feet by the buffeting, shrieking bodies.

I strained my eyes to see through the clouds of incense hanging in the temple.

I smelled blood.

A girl cried out.

People, merchants, the rich, the poor, fishermen, porters, fled towards the great doors, there to be cut down with axes. They fled back to the centre of the temple, huddled together. Axes cut through their midst. I heard shouts. I heard the harsh war cries of Torvaldsland. I heard golden sheets of metal being pried from the square pillars of the temple. The interior of the sanctuary was strewn with deadinitiates, many hacked to pieces. The four boys who had sung in the services held to one another, crying, like girls. From the high altar, standing upon it, Ivar Forkbeard directed his men. “Hurry!” he cried. “Gather what you can!”

“Kneel beneath the ax!” cried out one of the burghers of Kassau, who wore black satin, a silver chain about his neck. I gathered he might be administrator in this town.

The people, obediently, began to kneel on the dirt floor of the temple, their heads down.

I saw two men of T loading their cloaks with golden plate and vessels from the sanctuary, hurling them like tin and iron into the furs.

A fisherman cringed near me. One of the men ofTorvaldslandraised his ax to strike him. I caught the ax as it descended and held it. The warrior ofTorvaldsland looked at me,startled. His eyes widened. At his throat was then point of the sword of Port Kar.

Weapon s are not to be carried in the temple of Priest-Kings but I had been taught, long ago, by Kamchak of the Tuchuks, at a banquet in Turia, that where weapons may not be carried, it is well to carry weapons.

“Kneel before the ax,” I told the fisherman.

He did so.

I released theax of the man of Torvaldsland, and removed my blade from his throat. “Do not strike him,” I told the man of Torvaldsland.

He drew back his ax, and stepped away, regarding me, startled, wary.

“Gather loot!” cried Forkbeard. “ Are you waiting for the Sa-Tarna harvest!”

The man turned away and began to pull the gold hanging from the walls.

I saw, twenty feet from me, screaming, the giant, he of incredible stature, striking down at the kneeling people, who were crying out and trying to crawl away. The great blade dipped and cut, and swept up, and then cut down again. I saw the wild muscles of his bare arms bulging and knotted. Slobber came from his mouth. One man lay half cut through.

“Rollo!” cried out Forkbeard. “The battle is done!”

The giant, with the grayish face and shaggy hair, stood suddenly, unnaturally, quiet, the great, curved blade lifted over a weeping man. He lifted his head slowly, and turned it, slowly, towards the altar.

“The battle is done!” cried Forkbeard.

Two men of Torvaldsland then held the giant by the arms, and lowered his ax, and, gently, turned him away from the people. He turned and looked back at them, and they cowered away. But it did not seem that they recognised them.It seemed he did not know them and had not seen them before. Again his eyes seemed vacant. He turned away, and walked slowly, carrying his ax, toward one of the doors of the temple.

“Thosewho would live,” called our Forkbeard, “lie on the your stomachs.”

The people in the temple, many of them splattered with the blood of their neighbours, some severely wounded, threw themselves, shuddering, man and woman, and child, to their stomachs. They lay among many of their own dead.

I myself did not lie with them. Once I had been of the warriors.

I stood.

The men of Torvaldsland turned to face me.

“Why do you not lie beneath the ax, Stranger?” called out Forkbeard.

“I am not weary,” I told him.

Forkbeard laughed. “It is a good reason,” he said. “Are you of Torvaldsland?”

“No,” I told him.

“You are of the warriors?” asked Forkbeard.

“Perhaps once,” I told him.

“I shall see,” said Forkbeard. Then to one of his men, he said, “Hand me a spear.” One of the spears which had formed the platform on which he had been carried, gaining entrance to Kassau and the temple, was handed to him.

Suddenly behind me I heard a war cry of Torvaldsland.

I turned and swept to the guard position, in the instant seeing the man’s distance, and spun again to strike from my body, before it could penetrate it, the hurled spear of Ivar Forkbeard. It must be taken behind the point with the swiftblow of the forearm. The spear caroomed away and struck the wall of the temple, fifty feet behind me.In the same instant I had spun again, in the guard position, to stand againstthe man with his ax. He pulled up short, and looked to Ivar Forkbeard. I turned again to face the Forkbeard.

He grinned. “Yes, he said, “once perhaps you were of the warriors.”

I looked to the man behind me, and to the others. They lifted their axes in their right hand. It was a salute of Torvaldsland. I heard their cheers.

“He remains standing.” Said Ivar Forkbeard.

I sheathed my sword.

“Hurry!” called the Forkbeard to his men. “Hurry! The people of the town will gather!”

Swiftly, tearing hangings from the walls, prying loose sheets of gold, pulling down even lamps from their chains, filling their cloaks with cups and plates, the men of Torvaldsland stripped the temple of whatthey could tear loose and carry. Ivar Forkbeard leaped down from the altar and began, angrily, to hurl vessels of consecrated oils against the walls behind the sanctuary. Then he took a rack of candles and hurled it against the wall. Fire soon bit into the timbers behind the sanctuary.

The Forkbeard then leaped over the rail of the sanctuary and strode among the people lying on their stomachs, the wall facing the Sardar being eaten by fire, illuminating the interior of the temple.

He reached down, here and there, to rip a purse from one of the richer townsfolk. He took the purse of the burgher in black satin, and took, too, from his neck, the silver chain of his office, which he slung about his own neck.

He then drew with the handle of his ax a circle, some twenty feet in diameter, in the dirtfloor of the circle.

It was a bond-maid circle.

“Females,” he cried, gesturing with the great ax toward the wall opposite the doors, “swiftly! To the wall! Stand with your backs against it!”

Terrified, weeping, the men groaning, the females fled to the wall. I saw, standing there, terrified, their backs against it, the blond girl in the scarlet vest and skirt, her hair in the snood of scarlet yarn, tied with filaments of golden wire; and the large statuesque girl, in black velvet, with the silver straps over her breasts, and tied about her waist, with the purse. Ivar Forkbeard, in the light of the burning wall of the temple, quickly examined the line of women. From some he took jewellery, bracelets, necklaces and rings. From others her took purses, hanging at their belts. He tore away the purse from the large blonde girl, and the silver straps, too, which had decorated the black velvet of her gown. She shrank back against the wall.She was large breasted. The men of Torvaldsland are fond of such women. The jewellery and coins which he took he hurled into a golden sacrificial bowl, which one of his men carried at his side. As he went down the line, he freed certain women of the wall, telling them to swiftly returnto their place, and lie beneath the ax. Gratefully, they fled to their former places.

This left nineteen girls at the wall. I admired the taste of Forkbeard. They were beauties. My choices would have been the same.

Among them, of course, were the slender blond girl in the red vest and skirt, and the larger one, now in black velvet, torn, stripped of its silver straps, its brooches, the purse.

He ripped the snood of scarlet yarn from the slender blond girls hair. Her hair, now loose, fell behind her to the small of her back. He then tore away the ribbons and comb of bone and leather that had so intricately held the hair of the larger blond girl, she in black velvet. Her hair was even longer than that of the more slender girl.

The nineteen girls regarded him, terrified, eyes wide, their faces lit in the left side by the flames of the burning wall.

“Go to the bond-maid circle,” said Ivar Forkbeard, indicating the circle he had drawn in the dirt.

The women cried out in misery. To enterthe circle, if one is a female, is, by the laws of Torvaldsland, to declare oneself a bond-maid.A woman, of course, neednot to enter the circle of her own free will.She may, for example, be thrown within it, naked and bound.Howsoever she enters the circle, voluntarily, or by force, free or secured, she emerges from it, by the laws of Torvaldsland, as a bond-maid.

Seventeen of the girls, weeping, fled to the circle, and huddled within it.

Two did not, the slender blond girl and the larger one, in black velvet.

“I am Aelgifu,” said the large girl.“I am the daughter of Gurt of Kassau.He is administrator.There will be ransom money for me.”

“It is true!” cried a man, the burgher in black satin, whose chain of office Forkbeard had torn from his neck.

“One hundred pieces of gold,” said Forkbeard to him observing the girl.

She stiffened.

“Yes,” cried the man.“Yes!”

“Five nights from this night,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “on the skerry of Einar by the rune-stone of the Torvaldsmark.”

I had heard of this stone.It is taken by many to mark the border between Torvaldsland and the south.Many of those of Torvaldsland, however, take its borders to be much farther extended than the Torvalds regard Torvaldsmark. Indeed, some of their ships beach, as the took their country, and their steel, with them.

“Yes!” said the man. “I will bring the money to that place.”

“Go to the bond-maid circle,” said Ivar Forkbeard to the large girl, “but do not enter it.”

“Yes,” she said, hurrying to its edge.

“The wall of the temple will not last much longer, “ said one of the men of the Forkbeard.

Forkbeard looked then at the younger, blond, more slender girl, she with her hair now loose, the snood of scarlet.She looked up at him, boldly.“My father ispoorer than Aelgifu’s,” she said, “but forme, too, there will be a ransom.”

She looked at him with horror.In the crowd I heard a man and a woman cry out with misery.

“Go to the circle and enter it,” said Ivar Forkbeard to the girl.

She held up her head.“No,” she said.“I am free.Never will I consent to be a bond-maid.I shall first choose death!”

“Very well,” laughed the Forkbeard.“Kneel.”

Startled, she did so, uncertainly.

“Put your head down,” he said, “throw your hair forward, exposing your neck.”

She did so.

He lifted the great ax.

Suddenly she cried out and thrust her head to his boot.

She held his ankl.e.

Have mery on a bond-maid!” she wept.

Ivar Forkbeard laughed and reached down and pulled her up by the arm, his great fist closed about her arm within the white woolen blouse, and thrust her stumbling well within the circle.

“The wall will soon fall,” said one of the me.

I could see the fire creeping now, too, to the roof.

“Bond-maids,” ordered Ivar Forkbeard harshly, strip”!

Crying out the girls removed their garments.I saw that theweeping, slender blond-hair girl was incredibly beautiful.

Her legs and belly, and breasts, were marvelous.And her face, too, was beautiful, sensitive and intelligent.I envied the Forkbeard his catch.

“Fetter them,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

“ I hear the townfolk gathering,” said one of the men at the door.

Two of the men of Torvaldsland had, from their left shoulder to their right hip, that their right arms be less I impeded, a chain formed of slave bracelets; each pair of bracelets locked at each end about one of the bracelets of another pair, the whole thus forming a circle.Now they removed this chain of bracelets, and, one by one, removed the pairs, closing them about the small wrists, behind their backs, of the female captives, now bond-maids.These bracelets were of the sort used to hold women in the north.The are less ornate and finely tooled than those available in the south.But they are satisfactory for their purpose.They consist of curve, hinged bands of black iron, three quarters of an inch in width and a quarter inch in thickness.On one of each of the two curved pieces constituting a bracelet there is a welded ring; the two welded rings are joined by a single link, about an inch in width counting both sides, each of which is about a quarter of an inch in diameter, and three inches long.Some of the girls cried out with pain as the fetters, locking, bit into their wrists.

I saw the slender girl’s wrists pulled behind her and snapped in the fetters.She winced.They were rough, plain fetters, but they would hold her well, quite as well as the intricately wrought counterparts of the south.

Ivar Forkbeard regarded Aelgifu.“Fetter her, too,” he said.She was fettered.

The fire had now climbed well unto the roof and had taken hold on another wall, near the railing, against which the women, earlier, had stood.

It was growing hard to breathe in the temple.

“Coffle the females,” said Forkbeard.

With a long length of binding fiber the nineteen girls were swiftly fastened throat to throat.

Aelgifu, clothed, led the coffle.She was free.The others were only bond-maids.

The beams which secured the doors were thorwn back, but the doors were not opened.

The men of Torvaldsland strugled to lift their burdens.Gold is not light.

“Utilize the bond-maids,” said the Forkbeard, anglily.Swiftly, about the necks of the bond-maids were tied strings plate.Soon, they, too, were heavily burdened.Several stagered under the wieght of the riches they bore.

“In the north, my pretty maids,” Ivar assured them, “ the burdens you carry will be more prosaic, bundles of wood for the fires, buckets of water for the hall, baskets of dung for the fields.”

They looked at him with horror understanding then what the nature of their life would be.

And at night, of course, they would server the feasts of their masters, carrying and filling the great the horns, and delighting them with the softness of their bodies in the furs.

“We are ready to depart,” said one of the men.I could hear angry townspeople outside.

“You will never get us to the ship,” said the slender blond girl.

“Be silent, bond-maid,” said Ivar Forkbear.

“My bondage will not last long,” she laughed.

“We shall see,” laughed Ivar Forkbeard.

He then ran, almost through the flames to the high altar of the temple of Kassau.With a single leap he attained its summit. The, with his boot and shoulder, he tottered the great circle of gold which surmounted it.It moved unsteadily, rockingback and broke apart. It was only golden sheathing on a wheel of clay.

The people of Kassau, within the burning temple, cried, startled.They had understood the circle to be of solid gold.

Standing on the broken fragments of the circle, Ivar Forkbeard cried out, his ax lifted, and his left hand, too, “Praise be to Odin!” And then, throwing his ax to his left shoulder, holding it there by his left hand the turned and faxed the Sardar, and lifted his fist, clenched.It was not only a sign of defiance to Priest-Kings, but the fist, the sign of the hammer.It was the sign of Thor.

“We can carry no more,” cried one of his men.

“Nor shall we,” laughed Ivar.

“The circle? Cried one.

“Leave it for the people to see,” laughed Ivar.“That it is only gold on a wheel of clay!”

He turned to face me.

“I want passage to Torvaldsland,” I said.“I hunt beast.”

“Kurii? He asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“You are mad,” he said.

“Less mad I expect than Ivar Forkbeard,” I said.

“My serpent,” said he, “ is not a vessel on which one may book passage.”

“I play Kaissa,” I said.

“The voyage north will be long,” he said.

“I am skilled at the game,” I said. “Unless you are quite good, I shall beat you.”

We heard the people screaming outside.I heard one of the beams in the ceiling crack.The roar of the flames seemed deafening.“We shall die in the temple if we do not soon flee,” said one of his me.Of all those in the temple, I think only I, and Ivar Forkbeard, and the giant, he of incredible stature, who had fought with such frenzy, did not seem anxious.He did not seem even aware of the flames.He carried a sack of plate at his back, heavy and bulging, which had been given to him by other men, that he might carry it.

“I, too, am skilled at the game,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

“Are you truly good?”

“I am good,” I said.“Whether I am as good as you, of course, I shall not know until we play.”

“True,” said Forkbeard.

“I sahll join you at your ship,” I said.

“Do so,” said he.

The he turned to one of his me.“Keep close to me the coins brought as offerings by the poor to the temple of Kassau,” he said.These coins had now been placed in the large, single bow.

“Yes, Captain,” said the man.

The rear wall, too, of the temple now caught fire, I heard another beam in the ceiling crack. There were sparks in the air.They stung my face.The bond-maids, their bodies exposed to them, cried out in pain.

“Open the other gate!” cried Ivar Forkbeard.Hysterically, crowding, those citizens of Kassau who had, weeping, terified, been lying on their stomachs in the dirt, beneath the burning roof, leapt to their feet and fled through the door.

Ivar permitted them to leave the temple.

“They are coming out!”cried a voice from the outside.We heard angry men running to the door, people turning the movements of chains, flails and rakes.

“Now let us leave” said Ivar Forkbear.

“You will never get us to the ship,” said the slender girl.

“You will hurry, pretty little bond-maids, and you, too, my large-breasted lovely,” said Ivar, indicating black-vel-veted Aelgifu, “or you will be cut out of the coffle by your heads.”

“Open the door,” he said.

The door was swung open.“To the ships,” he cried.

“Hurry, my pretties,” he laughed, striking the slender blond girl, and others of them, sharply with the palm of his hand.His men, too, the girls between them, pushed through the door.

“They are coming out here!” cried a voice, a man in the crowd of the poor, a peasant, turning about, seeing us.But many of those in the crowd were clasping loved ones, and friends, as they escaped from the other door.Swiftly, down the dirt street to the wharves from the temple, stirding, but not running, moved Ivar Forkbeard with his men, and his loot, both that of female flesh and gold.Many of the peasants, and fishermen, and other poor people, who had not found places in the temple, turned about.Several of them began to follow us, lifting flails and great scythes.Some carried chains, others hoes.

They had no leadership.

Like wolves, crying out, shouting, lifting their fists, they ran behind us as we made our way toward the wharves. Then a rock fell among us, and another.

Noen of them cared to rush upon the axes of the men of Torvaldsland.

“Save us!” cried the slender blond girl.“You are men!Save us!”

At her cries many of the men seemed emboldened and rushed more closely about us, but swings of the great axes kept them back.

“Gather together!”we heard.“Charge!”We saw Gurt, in his black satin, rallying them.

They had lacked a leader.They had one now.Ivar Forkbeard then took Aelgifu by the hair and turned her, so that those following might see.

“Stop!” cried Gurt to them.

The single-baled edge of the great ax lay at Aelgifu’s throat; her head was bent back.For Forkbeard, his left hand in her hair, his right hand just below the head of the ax, grinned at Gurt.

“Stop,” said Gurt, moaning, crushed.“do not fight them!Let them go!”

Ivar Forkbeard released Aelgifu and thrust her ruderly, stumbling, ahead of him.

“Hurry!” called Ivar Forkbeard to his men.“Hurry bright-fleshed ones,” called he to the fettered, burdened coffled bon-mids.

Behind us, we heard the roof of the temple, collapese, I looked back.Smoke stained the sky.

A hundred yards from the wharves we saw a crowd of angry men, perhaps two hundred, blocking the way.They held gaff, harpoons, even pointed stick. Some carried crash hooks and others chisels, and iron levers.

“You see,” cried the blond, girl, delightedly, “my bondage is short!”

“Citizens of Kassau!”called out Ivar Forkbeard cheerily.

“Greetings from Ivar Forkbeard!”

The men looked at him, tense, hunched over, weapons ready, angry.

Forkbeard then, grinning, slung his ax over his left shoulder, dropping it into the broad leather loop by which it may be carried, its head behind his head and to the left.This loop is fixed in a broad leather belt worn from the left shoulder to the right hip, fastened there by a hook, that the weight of the ax will not turn the belt, which fits into a ring in the otherwise unarmed, carry a knife at their master belt. All men of Torvaldsland, incidentally, even if otherwise unarmed, carry a knife at their master belt.The sword, when carried, and it often is, is commonly supported might be mentioned, the common Gorean practice.It can also, of course, be hung, by its sheath and sheath straps, form the master belt, which is quite adequate, being a stout heavy belt, to hold it.It is called the master belt, doubtless, to distinguish it from the ax belt and the sword belt, and because it is, almost always worn.A pouch, of course, and other accoutrements my hang, too, from it.Gorean garments, generally, do not contain pockets.Some say the master belt gets its name be cause it is used sometimes in the disciplining of bond-maids. This seems to be a doubtful origin for the name.It is true, however, questions of the origin of the name aside, that bond-maids, stripped, are often taught obedience under its lash.

Ivar Forkbeard reached out his hands and took from one of his men the bowl of coins which the poor had brought as their pitiful offerings to the temple of Kassau.

Then, smiling, by hadfuls he hurled the coins to the right and to the left.

Tense, the men watched him.One of those coins, of small denomination though they might be, was day’s wages on the docks of Kassau.

More coins, in handfuls, showered to the street, to the sides of the men.

“Fight!” screamed the blond girl.“Fight!”

One of the men, suddenly, reached down and snatched one.

Then, with a great, sweeping gesture, Ivar Forkbeard emptied the bowl of coins, scattering them in a shower of coper and iron over the men. Two more men reached down to snatch a coin.

“Fight!” screamed the blond girl.“Fight!”

The first man, scrabbling in the dirt, picked up another coin, and the another.

Then the second and third man found, each, another coin.Then the others, agonized, unable longer to resist, scurried to the left and right, their weapons discarded, and fell to their knees snatching coins.

“Cowards!” Slenn!”wept the blond girl.Then she cried out in misery, half choked by the coffle loop on her throat, as she found herself hurried, fettered and burdened with the others, through the workers of Kassau.

We brushed through the scrabbling workers and saw before us the wharf, and the serpent, sleek and swift, of Ivar Forkbeard, at its moorings.Ten men had remained at the ship.Eight held bows, with arrows at the string; none had dared to approach the ship; the short bow of the Gorean north, wit its short, heavy arrows, heavily headed, lacks the range and power of the peasant bow of the south, that now, too, the property of the rencers of the delta, but at short range, within a hundred and fifty yards, it can administer a considerable strike.It has, too, the advantage that it is more manageable in close quarters than the peasant box resembling somewhat the Tuchuck bow of layered horn in this respect.It is more useful in close combat on a ship, for example, than would be the peasant bow. Too, it is easier to fire it through a thole port, the oar withdrawn.The two other men stood ready with knives to cut the ooring ropes.

The men of Ivar Forkbeard threw their bulging cloaks, filled with gold and plate, into the ship.

Ivar Forkbeard looked back.

We heard, in the distance, a muffle d crash.A wall of the temple had fallen. Then, amoment later, we heard the falling of another wall.Smoke, in angry billows, black and fiery, climbed the sky above Kassau.

“I shall fetch a belonging or two,” I said, “ and be with you presenlty.”

“Do not delay overlong,” suggested Ivar Forkbeard.

“Very well,” I said.

I ran to the yard of a tavern near the docks.There I unsaddled, unbridled and freed the tarn I had ridden north.“Fly!” I commanded it.It smote the air with its wings, and beat its way into the smoky skies of Kassau.I saw it turn toward the southeast.I smiled.In such a direction, I knew, lay the mountains of Thentis.In those mountains had the borebearers of the bird been bred.I thought of the webs of spiders and turtles running to the sea.How fantastic, how strange, I thought, is the blood of beasts, and I realized, too, that I wasa beast, and wondered on what might be the nature of those instincts which must be my own.

I hurled a golden tarn disk to the ground, to pay for lodging in Kassau, and the care of the bird. I would leave the saddle.

But from it I took the saddlebags, containing some belongings, and some gold, and, too, the bedroll of fur and boskhide.From it, too, I took, in its waterproof sheath, the great bow, and its arrows, forty arrows flight and sheaf.

I looked after the tarn. Already it had gone, disappearing in the smoking sky above Kassau.

I had booked better passage to Torvaldsland.

I turned and ran back to the wharf.

Eight bows were trained on me; eight arrows lay ready at the taut string.

“Do not fire,” called Ivar Forkbeard to his bowmen.He grinned. “ He plays Kaissa.”

I threw my gear into the ship, and, bow in hand, leaped into the serpent.

“Cast off,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

The two mooring ropes were flung free of the mooring cleats.They were not cut. The bowmen took their places, with their fellows, on the benches.The serpent backed from the pier and, in the harbor, turned. The red-and-white striped sail, snapping, unfolding, was dropped from the spar.

Between the benches, amidships, among piles of loot, their wrists fettered behind them, sat the naked bondmaids, and Aelgifu, in her torn, black velvet.They were still in throat coffle.Their ankles had been crossed, and lashed tightly with binding fiber.Aelgifus shoes, I noted, had been removed, and her woolen hose; this was done that her ankles and feet, bared now like those of the bond-maids, might be as securely tied.No Gorean puts binding fiber over shoes or hose.It seemed Aelgifu, proud and rich, would go barefoot, like a peasant wench or a stripped bon-maid, by the will of Ivar Forbeard, until her ransom was paid on the skerry of Einar five nights from this night, by the rune-stone of the Torvaldsmark.She alone of the women, though fettered and bound, and in coffle, did not seem unduly upset.

Ivar Forbeard went to the bond-maids.He looked down on the blond, slender gir.The coffle loop was on her throat.She sat, with her legs drawn up, her ankles crossed moved her wrists in the fetters;there was small sound as the three-inch joining link moved in the welded rings of the fetters.

“It seems your bondage,” said he, “pretty maid, will not be as short as you had hoped.”

She looked down.

“There is no escape,” he tole her.

She sobbed.

The men of Torvaldsland began to sing at the oars.

Ivar Forkbeard reached down to the planking on the deck and picked up Aelgifu’s shoes and hose, where they had been discarded when they had been removed and her ankle bound.He threw them over the side.

Then he joined me at the stern. We could see ment at the docks.Some were even attempting to rig a coasting vessel to purseu the serpent.But they would not rig it.

It was pointless.

The men of Torvaldsland sang with great voices.The oars, two men to an oars lifted and dipped.The helmsman leaned on the tiller of the great steering oar.

Behind us we could see the smoke of the burning temple.Too, it seemed, the fires had spread elsewhere in Kassau, doubtless carried by the wind.

We could now see those at the dock, and even those who had been bestirring themselves with the coasting vessel, returning to the town.We heard the ringing of the great bar which hung on its timber frame outside the temple. The town was afire.The men of Kassau left the docks, hurrying up the dirt streets, to take up their new labors.

Behind us, amidhsips, we heard the weeping of women fettered bon-maids being carried north to serve harsh massters.

The smoke billowed high in the sky above Kassau.We could hear, clearly, carrying over the water, the ringing of the great bar outside the temple.

The men of Torvaldsland singing, the oars lifting and dipping, the serpent of Ivar Forkbeard took its way from the harbor of Kassau.