Marauders of Gor

Chapter 5 Feed her on the gruel of bond-maids

It was at noon of the following day that the lookout cried out, “Serpent to starboard!”

The Forkbeard looked up from the board, swiftly. The men of Ivar Forkbeard, too, suddenly came alive. They rushed to the starboard gunwales. Still they could see nothing. “Benches!” called the Forkbeard. Swiftly his men took their places; I heard the oars slide half outboard.

“Do not disturb the arrangement of the pieces,” said Ivar Forkbeard, leaving the board. He climbed halfway up the knotted rope, halfway up the mast. I stood up. The day was cloudy. The awning had not been stretched this day. It lay rolled between the benches. I could see nothing.

The bond-maids looked about themselves, frightened. Gorm was suddenly among them. He began, one by one, fettering their hands behind their backs. When he had done this, he knelt among them, crossing their ankles, tying them, too, tightly. If there was to be battle, they would be utterly helpless, completely unable to interfere in the least way. They would await the battle’s result, and their disposition; they were females. At the mast, Aelgifu stood, still chained to it by the neck, her wrists still fettered before her.

“It is the serpent of Thorgard of Scagnar,” cried out Forkbeard, much pleased.

“Is he an ally?” I asked.

“No,” laughed the Forkbeard, delighted, “an enemy!”

I saw the men of the Forkbeard grinning, one to the other. The huge feliow, with grayish face, who seemed generally much in lethargy, who had slaughtered with such frenzy in the temple of Kassau, slowly lifted his head. I thought I saw his nostrils flare. His mouth opened slightly, and I saw his teeth.

The Forkbeard then ordered the sail high reefed, set even to the spar.

“Keep her stern to the wind,” he said. The oars slid outboard. Let free the ship will swing prow to the wind.

“We have time,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “for another move or two.”

“I am still attempting to break the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit,” I said.

“Singer to Ax two is not a strong move,” said the Forkbeard.

Twice yesterday, in long games, until the Torvaldsland gulls had left the sea and returned inland, I had failed to meet the gambit.

“You intend to follow it, of course,” said the Forkbeard, “with Jarl to your Ax four.”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“Interesting,” said the Forkbeard. “Let us play that variation.”

It was a popular variation in the south. It is seen less frequently in the north. In the south, of course, the response is to the Ubar’s Tarnsman’s gambit. I could see that the Forkbeard, though expecting the variation, given the preceding four moves, was delighted when it had materialized. He had, perhaps, seldom played it.

“The serpent of Thorgard has seen us!” called the lookout, not at all dismayed.

“Excellent,” said Ivar Forkbeard. “Now we will not be forced to wind the signal horns across the water.”

I grinned. “Tell me about Thorgard of Scagnar,” I said.

“He is an enemy,” said Ivar Forkbeard, simply.

“The ships of this Thorgard,” I said, “have often preyed on the shipping of Port Kar.”

“The shipping of Port Kar,” smiled Ivar Forkbeard, “is not uniquely distinguished in this respect.”

“He is, therefore,” said I, “my enemy as well as yours.”

“What is your name?” had asked the Forkbeard.

“Call me Tarl,” I said.

“It is a name of Torvaldsland,” he said. “Are you not ofTorvaldsland?”

“No,” I had told him.

“Tarl what?” he had asked.

“It is enough that you call me Tarl,” I said, smiling.

“Very well,” said he, “but here, to distinguish you from others in the north, we must do better than that.”

“How is that?” I asked.

He looked at my hair, and grinned. “We will call you Tarl Red Hair,” he said.

“Very well,” I said.

“Your city,” he asked, “what is it?”

“You may think of me,” I had said, “as one of Port Kar.”

“Very well,” said he, “but I think we shall not make a great deal of that, for the men of Port Kar are not overly popular in the north.”

“The men of Torvaldsland,” I assured him, “are not overly popular in the south.”

“The men of Port Kar, however,” said the Forkbeard, “are respected in the north.”

“The men of Torvaldslahd,” I told him, “are similarly respected in the south.”

Gorean enemies, if skilled, often hold one another in high regard.

“You play Kaissa well,” had said Ivar Forkbeard. “Let us be friends.”

“You, too, are quite skilled,” I told him. Indeed, he had much bested me. I still had not fathomed the devious variations of the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit as played in the north. I expected, however, to solve it.

We had shaken hands over the board.

“Friend,” he had said. “Friend,” I had said.

We had then tasted salt, each from the back of the wrist of the other.

“The serpent of Thorgard wheels upon us!” called the lookout cheerily.

“Shall I get the great bow from my belongings?” I asked Ivar Forkbeard.

I knew its range well exceeded that of the shorter bows of the north.

“No,” said the Forkbeard.

“Eight pasangs away!” called the lookout. “The serpent hunts us!”

The Forkbeard and I played four more moves. “Fascinating,” he said.

“Four pasangs away!” called the lookout.

“What shield is at his mast?” called the Forkbeard.

“The red shield,” called the lookout.

“Raise no shield to our own mast,” said the Forkbeard.

His men looked at him, puzzled.

“Thorgard is quite proud of his great longship,” he said, “the serpent called Black Sleen.”

I had heard of the ship.

“It has a much higher freeboard area than this vessel,” I told Ivar Forkbeard. “It is a warship, not a raider. In any engagement you would be at a disadvantage.”

The Forkbeard nodded.

“It is said, too,” said I, “to be the swiftest ship in the north.”

“That we will find out,” said the Forkbeard.

“Two pasangs away!” called the lookout.

“It has forty benches,” said Ivar Forkbeard. “Eighty oars, one hundred and sixty rowers.” The benches on only one side, I recalled, are counted. “But her lines are heavy, and she is a weighty ship.”

“Do you intend to engage her?” I asked.

“I would be a fool to do so,” said the Forkbeard. “I have with me the loot ofthe temple of Kassau, and eighteen bond-maids, and lovely Aelgifu. I would have much to lose, and little to gain.”

“That is true,” I said.

“When I engage Thorgard of Scagnar,” said Ivar Eiorkbeard, “I shall do so to my advantage, not his.”

“One pasang!” called the lookout.

“Do not disturb the pieces,” said Ivar, getting up. He said to Gorm, “Take the first bond=maid and draw her up the mast.” Then he said to two others of his men, “Unbind the ankles of the other bond-maids and thrust them to the rail, where they may be seen.” Then he said to the rowers on the starboard side, “When I give the signal, let us display to Thorgard of Scagnar what we can of the riches of the temple of Kassau!”

The men laughed.

“Will we not fight?” asked the giant, slowly.

Ivar Forkbeard went to him, as might have a father, and took his head in his hands, and held it against his chest. “No battle now,” said he, “Rollo. Another time.”

“No-battle-now?” asked the giant.

“No battle now,” repeated the Forkbeard, shaking the giant’s head. “Another time. Another time.”

There was an agony of disappointment in the large eyes of the huge head.

“Another tirne!” laughed the Forkbeard, giving the great head a shake, as though it might have been that of a pet hound or bear.

“A half pasang and slowing!” called the lookout. “She will approach astern!”

“Swing to face her amidships,” laughed the Forkbeard. Let them see what riches we carry!”

The blond, slender girl’s wrists were now fettered before her body, and a rope attached to the fetters. It was thrown over the spar. Her hands were jerked over her head. Then, by her fettered wrists, she moaning, her naked body twisting against the mast, foot by foot, she was drawn to five feet below the spar. She dangled there, in pain, her body that of a stripped bond-maid, exquisite, tempting, squirming, a taunt to the blood of the men of Thorgard of Scagnar.

That will encourage them to row their best,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

Then the other bond-maids, seventeen of them, were thrust to the rail, and, steadied by the hands of rowers, stood upon it, wrists fettered behind them, in coffle.

The ship of Thorgard was now little more than a quarter of a pasang away. I could detect its captain, doubtless the great Thorgard himself, on its stern deck, above the helmsman, with a glass of the builders.

What marvelous beauties he saw, seventeen naked prizes fettered and coffled, that might be his, could he but take them, and, dangling from the mast, perhaps the most exquisite of all, the slender, blond girl, perhaps herself worth five bond-maids of the more common sort. Aelgifu, too, of course, might be seen, chained to the mast, her wrists fettered before her. That she was clothed would indicate to Thorgard thal: she was free, and might bring high ransom.

“Throw the bond-maids between the benches and secure them,” said Ivar, to those steadying them at the rail. Quickly the miserable bond-wenches were pulled back and flung, belly down, some Iying on others, between the benches. Gorm quickly bent to them, lashing their ankles together. “Lower the wench from the spar!” called the Forkbeard. “You on the starboard side, display now the loot of Kassau’s temple!”

Rowers of Ivar Forkbeard now took their place at the port side. Some waved the golden hangings of the temple over their heads, as though they might have been banners. Others, jeering across the water, lifted up plates and candlesticks. The blond, slender girl, lowered from the mast, collapsed at its foot. She was pulled to her feet by the arm and thrust running, stumbling, to Gorm. He fettered her hands behind her body, and thrust her to her belly, face down, among the other girls. He then fastened her again in the coffle and, swiftly, lashed together her ankles.

The ship of Thorgard was now only some hundred yards away.

An arrow cleft the air, passing over the gunwales.

“Throw the loot over the bond-maids,” called the Forkbeard. This would provide the miserable wenches, terrified and fettered, some measure of protection from missiles, stones and darts. “The awning!” called Forkbeard. Some of the girls looked up, the slender, blond girl among them, and saw the darkness of the awning, unrolled, quickly cast over the loot. Some of them screamed, being suddenly plunged in darkness.

More arrows slipped past. One struck in the mast. Aelgifu knelt behind it, still chained to it by the neck, her head in her fettered hands. A javelin struck in the deck. A stone bounded from the rail at the top of the port gunwale, splintering it. The ship of Thorgard, Black Sleen, was no more than some fifty yards away. I could see helmeted men at its gunwales, some five feet above the water line. The helmets of the north are commonly conical, with a nose-guard, that can slip up and down. At the neck and sides, attached by rings, usually hangs a mantle of linked chain. The helmet of Thorgard himself, however, covered his neck and the sides of his face. It was horned. Their shields, like those of Torvaldsland, are circular, and of wood. The spear points are large and heavy, of tapered, socketed bronze, some eighteen inches in length. Many, too, carried axes.

“Benches!” laughed Ivar Forkbeard. “Sail!”

In my opinion he had waited too long.

His men leaped to their benches and seized their oars. At the same time the sail, with its red and white stripes, in itS full length, fell snapping from the yard.

“Stroke!” called Ivar. A javelin hissed past him.

The wind, like a hammer, took the sail. The oars bit the water. The prow of the serpent of Ivar Forkbeard leaped from the water and its stern went almost awash.

“Stroke!” called the Forkbeard.

I laughed with pleasure. The serpent of Ivar Forkbeard leaped toward the line of the horizon.

There was consternation on the deck of Black Sleen. I could see Thorgard of Scagnar, in the horned helmet, bearded, crying orders.

The prow of Black Sleen, sluggishly, I thought, turned our wake. I saw men rushing to their benches. I saw the long oars lift, and then fall.

A javelin, and four more arrows struck the deck of Ivar’s ship. Two of the arrows struck the plate of the temple of Kassau, and hung, broken, in the boskhide awning that covered the Forkbeard’s loot, both that of gold and flesh, and then anotherjavelin fell behind us, into the sea, and the bowmen returned to their benches.

For a quarter of an Ahn the Forkbeard himself held the helm of his ship.

But after a quarter of an Ahn, grinning, the Forkbeard surrendered the helm to one of his men, and came to join me amidships.

We placed the board again between us on the chest. The position of the pieces had not changed, held by the board’s pegs.

“A most interesting variation,” said Forkbeard, returning his attention to the board.

“It may meet theJarl’s Ax’s gambit,” I said.

“I think not,” said Forkbeard, “but let us see.”

After another quarter of an Ahn Forkbeard bade his men rest at their oars.

Far behind us Black Sleen, reputed to be the fastest ship in the north, struggled, under oars and sail, to match our pace. She could not do so. Under sail alone the serpent of — Ivar Forkbeard, almost scornfully, sped from her. Soon she had become no more than a speck astern, and was then visible only to the lookout. The awning was drawn back, and rolled, and placed to one side. The bond-maids, their bodies sweaty, broken out from rash and heat, struggled to their knees, their heads back, and drank the fresh air. The litter of gold under which they had been forced to lie was kicked to one side. Gorm then unbound their fair ankles, and, taking their wrists from behind them, once more fettered thenbefore their bodies, at their bellies. Shortly thereafter the were fed, certain of them preparing the food. Life returned to normal aboard the ship. Soon Black Sleen was visible no even to the lookout.

It was growing toward evening.

“Take course,” said Ivar Forkbeard, to his helmsman, “fo the skerry of Einar.”

“Yes, Captain,” said the helmsman.

Aelgifu laughed with joy.

It was there, at the rune-stone of the Torvaldsmark, that Ivar Forkbeard would receive her ransom.

I discovered, to my instruction, an Ahn later, that Singer to Ax two, followed by Jari to Ax four, is insufflcient to counter the Jarl’s Ax’s gambit, as it is played in the north.

“I did not think it would be,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

“The name of the ship of Thorgard of Scagnar,” I said, “is Black Sleen. What is the name of your ship, if I may know?”

“The name of my ship,” said Ivar, “is the Hilda.”

“Is it not unusual for a ship of the north to bear the name of a woman?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Why is she called the Hilda?” I asked.

“That is the name of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar,” said Ivar Forkbeard.

I looked up at him, astonished.

“The Hilda is my ship,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “and the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar will be my bond-maid.”

We lay to, without lights, a pasang from the skerry of Einar.

The wrists of the bond-maids were fettered behind their backs; their ankles were tied; they wore the coffle rope of the north; and their mouths, with waddings of sleen fur, and strappings of leather, were tightly gagged.

There was silence on the ship of Ivar Forkbeard. Ivar, and four men, had taken the longboat, which is tied, keel up, on the decking of the after quarter, and made their way to the skerry. With them, her hair combed, warmed with a broth of dried bosk meat, heated in a copper kettle, over a fire on a rimmed iron plate, legged, set on another plate on the stern quarter, her hands tied behind her with simple binding fiber, had gone Aelgifu.

Gorm, who seemed second to Ivar, and I, stood at the railing near the prow on the port side of the serpent.

I could see, against the night sky, the darker shape, but low in the water, of the skerry. Too, against the sky, I could see the tall rune-stone, looking like a needle against the stars, which forms the Torvaldsmark.

Ivar had left the ship in good humor. “I shall return with Aelgifu’s ransom money,” he had told us.

With him, in the longboat, in a round, bronze can, with twist lid, he had taken his scales, collapsible, of bronze and chain, with their weights. I knew that Gurt of Kassau, too, would bring his scales. I hoped that the weights matched, for if they did not, there would be trouble indeed. Gurt, I knew, if wise, would not attempt to cheat the Forkbeard. I had less confidence in the weights of the man of Torvaldsland.

“Have you a coin you wish to check?” had asked Ivar, seriously, of me.

“All right,” I had said, sensing his amusement. I had drawn forth from my pouch a golden tarn. He had placed it on the scale.

“Unfortunately,” said he, “this coin is debased. It is only three-quarters weight.”

“It bears the stamp,” said I, “of the mints of Ar.”

“I would have thought better of the mints of Ar,” said he.

“If Ar were to produce debased coins,” I said, “her trade would be reduced, if not ruined.”

“Have you another coin?” he asked.

I put a silver Tarsk, of Tharna, on the scale.

He changed his weight.

“Debased,” said he. “It is only three-quarters weight.”

“Tharna, too,” I said, “is apparently tampering with her colnage.”

“The worst,” said Ivar Forkbeard, “is likely to be the coinage of Lydius.”

“I expect so,” I said.

I smiled. The ransom money of Gurt of Kassau would, doubtless, be largely composed of the stamped coin of Lydi us. The only mint at which gold coins were stamped within a thousand pasangs was in Lydius, at the mouth of the Laurius. Certain jarls, of course, in a sense, coined money, marking bars of iron or gold, usually small rectangular solids, with their mark. Ring money was also used, but seldom stamped with a jarl’s mark. Each ring, strung on a larger ring, would be individually weighed in scales. Many transactions are also done with fragments of gold and silver, often broken from larger objects, such as cups or plates, and these must be individually weighed. Indeed, the men of the north think little of breaking apart objects which, in the south, would be highly prized for their artistic value, simply to obtain pieces of negotiable precious metal. The fine candlesticks from the temple of Kassau, for example, I expected would be chopped into bits small enough for the pans of the northern scales. Of their own art and metalwork, however, it should be mentioned that the men of the north are much more respectful. A lovely brooch, for example, wrought by a northern craftsman, would be seldom broken or mutilated.

“I have two pair of scales,” admitted Ivar Forkbeard, grinning. “These are my trading scales,” he said.

“Do you think Gurt of Kassau will accept your scales?” I asked.

The Forkbeard fingered the silver chain of office, looped about his neck, which he had taken from the administrator of Kassau. “Yes,” he said, “I think so.”

We laughed together.

But now, with Gorm, and the men of Ivar Forkbeard, I waited, in silence, on his serpent.

“Should the Forkbeard not have returned by now?” I asked.

“He is coming now,” said Gorm.

I peered through the darkness. Some hundred yards away, difficult to see, was the longboat. I heard the oars, in good rhythm, lifting and dipping. The oar stroke’s spacing was such that I knew them not in flight.

Then I saw the Forkbeard at the tiller. The longboat scraped gently at the side of the serpent.

“Did you obtain the ransom money?” I asked.

“Yes,” said he, lifting a heavy bag of gold in his hand.

“You were long,” I said.

“It took time to weigh the gold,” he said. “And there was some dispute as to the accuracy of the scales.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“Yes,” said the Forkbeard. “The weights of Gurt of Kassau were too light.”

“I see,” I said.

“Here is the gold,” he said, hurling the sack to Gorm. “One hundred and twenty pieces.”

“The scales of Gurt of Kassau, I see,” I said, “weighed lightly indeed.”

“Yes,” laughed the Forkbeard. He then threw other purses to Gorm.

“What are these?” I asked.

“The purses of those who were with Gurt of Kassau,” he said.

I heard a moan from the longboat, and saw something, under a fur of sea sleen, move.

The Forkbeard threw off the fur, revealing the proud Aelgifu, bound hand and foot, gagged, lying in the bottom of the boat. She still wore her black velvet. She looked up, her eyes terrified. The Forkbeard lifted her up to Gorm. “Put her in the coffle,” he told him.

Aelgifu was carried to where the bond-maids, perfectly restrained, lay. The binding fiber on her wrists was removed. Her hands were fettered behind her. The coffle rope was looped about her throat, and knotted. Gorm left her ankles, like those of the bond-maids, securely bound.

I helped the Forkbeard and his men lift the longboat to the deck. It was tied down on the after quarter, keel up.

Suddenly an arrow struck the side of the ship.

“Free the serpent!” called the Forkbeard. “Benches!” The two anchor hooks, fore and aft, were raised. They resemble heavy grappling hooks. Their weight, apiece, is not great, being little more than twenty-five Gorean stone, or about one hundred Earth pounds. They are attached to the ship not by chain but by tarred rope. The men of the Forkbeard scurried to their benches. I heard the thole-port caps turned back, and the oars thrust through the wood.I could see, from the shore, black and dark, more than a dozen small boats, containing perhaps ten or fifteen men each, moving towards us. Two more arrows struck the ship. Others slipped past in the darkness, their passage marked by the swift whisper of the feathers and shaft.

“To sea!” called the Forkbeard. “Stroke!”

The serpent turned its prow to sea, and the oars moved down, entered the water, and pulled against it.

“Stroke!” called the Forkbeard.

The serpent slipped away. The Forkbeard stood angrily at the rail, looking back at the small flotilla of boats, dark in the night.

He turned to his men. “Let this be a lesson to you,” he called to them, “never trust the men of Kassau!”

At the oars the men struck up a rowing song.

“And what did you do with Gurt and those with him on the skerry?” I asked.

“We left them naked,” said the Forkbeard. Then he looked aft, at the small boats falling behind. “It seems these days,” he said, “one can trust no one.”

Then he went to the bond-maids. “Remove their gags,” he sald.

Their gags were removed, but they dared not speak. They were bond-maids. Their bodies, bound, loot, prizes of the Forkbeard lying in the darkness, among the glint of the gold taken in the sack of Kassau’s temple, were very beautiful.

The Forkbeard freed Aelgifu of her gag.

“It seems,” he said, “that last night was not the last night which you will spend in my bondage.”

“You took ransom money! “ she cried. “You took ransom! “

“I have taken more than ransom money,” said he, “my large-breasted beauty.”

“Why did you not free me?” she cried.

“I want you,” he said. Then he looked at her. “I said only, you might remember,” said he, “that I would take your ransom money. Never did I say that I would exchange you for those paltry moneys. Never did I say, my pretty one, that I would permit you, so luscious a wench as you, to escape my fetters.”

She struggled, her head turned to one side, her wrists locked behind her in the black iron of the north.

Her ankles were bound. The coffle rope was on her throat. She was miserable.

“Welcome to the coffle,” said he.

“I am free,” she cried.

“Now,” he said.

She shuddered.

“You are too pretty to ransom,” he informed her, and turned away. To Gorm, he said, “Feed her on the gruel of bond-maids.”