Mariners of Gor

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Four Pani, in defensive stance, glaves at the ready, stood before the innermost gate.

“Stand aside!” commanded Tereus.

The Pani did not budge, though, obviously, resistance would have been useless.

“Stand aside!” said Tereus.

Behind him were a large number of armed men. Later, as they would be counted, there would be eight hundred and seventy men, precisely.

“We may not do so, honorable one,” said one of the guards politely.

Clearly Tereus did not wish to force the gate, but, as clearly, he was prepared to do so.

“We are going to the ship,” said Tereus.

“Have you permission?” inquired the guard.

There were cries of rage from several of the men. “Kill them,” I heard.

I pressed through the crowd.

I had thought the instigator of this action would have been Tyrtaios, but I did not see him. Tereus was a fine oarsman, and, in his way, an honorable fellow. I did not think he had managed this business, though, at present, it seemed he was its spokesman.

I suspected that those who were most behind this matter were in the background, waiting to see how matters might proceed.

Shedding the blood of others is easy; parting with one’s own is much more difficult.

Personally, I did not blame the men for wishing to withdraw.

Much treasure had been gathered in without much difficulty, from the derelicts in the Vine Sea. This treasure was aboard the ship. The men were mostly mercenaries, fee fighters, and they had already riches. What more could they hope for here, at the World’s End, in a war amongst strangers for strangers, a war from which they had little to expect and, presumably, a good deal to fear. They had encountered the enemy in the ill-advised landing and the exploratory force, to their sorrow, had encountered him more locally. These events augured no simple and speedy route to victory. The ship, on the other hand, was the means to return, rich, to continental Gor. They might have no other opportunity. It was not surprising, then, particularly given the apparently decisive defeat of the exploratory force, that fellows would think of escape, think of taking the ship and putting to sea. It had reached the World’s End from the northern forests of continental Gor. Why then might it not return? Too, who knew if the fleet of Lord Yamada might not soon appear on the horizon, and close the mouth of the cove, closing the door to escape and precluding the eventual exploitation of the hitherto garnered riches?

I continued to press through the crowd, trying to reach the gate.

Most of the men knew me, directly or indirectly, by accounts, from early in the voyage, my retrieval from the Metioche, and the test by Lord Nishida, early in the voyage, with Philoctetes, and later, from my attendance on Tarl Cabot, my actions in the Vine Sea, my role in the evacuation, my frequent participation in the high watches, and such.

I was not, of course, an officer, but, in this situation, I thought I might have more influence on them, being one of their own, so to speak, than an officer.

I broke through the crowd, I think a moment before the four Pani guardsmen would have been rushed, and the first of the three gates swung open.

I put myself before Tereus, and the fellows at his side.

“Hold, friend Tereus!” I cried, putting out my hands.

“Rescuer of Rutilius, the murderer,” he said, “stand away!”

Men growled beside him.

Tereus had unsheathed his sword. I had kept mine sheathed, of course, not so much because I wanted my intervention to be peaceful, though I surely wished that, as because, drawn, it would have done me little good. I might, with fortune, have slain one or two men, but then I would be swept aside, probably trampled, probably bleeding from a hundred wounds.

“You are all of the ship,” I cried to the men. “Do not betray her! Do not insult her! You have taken fee! Honor is due! You have come to serve, so serve! Do not desert your fellows, the Pani, and others, who have fought with you! You have been treated fairly by Lords Nishida and Okimoto. They have sought your service, paid for it with good coin, which you accepted, and brought you here, in trust, across vast, green Thassa, to the World’s End, that you may prove your worth and earn your pay, that you may teach those of these islands the honor, the prowess, and might of the archers, spearmen, and swordsmen of Ar, Jad, Brundisium, Temos, Kasra, Tor, and a hundred ports and cities.”

Men wavered, and looked to one another.

“He is Cosian,” said a fellow of Ar.

“You cannot stop us with words,” said a fellow, “you and four behind you.”

“You may stay here to die,” said a fellow. “We will not!”

“We came for gold, and we have it,” said another. “There is nothing to keep us here.”

“Honor!” I cried.

“Do not speak of honor,” said a fellow. “Many here have betrayed Home Stones.”

“Or been cast from our gates in the name of Home Stones,” snarled another.

“You cannot take the ship,” I said. “The galley nests are not open. The bulwarks are high. The ropes and nets will not be lowered.”

I saw more than one fellow in the crowd with loops of rope. I saw more than one grappling iron, and, I supposed, there were others, which had been smuggled from the ship. I knew, as well, that mooring ropes might be climbed, and that spikes might be hammered into the side of the ship, by means of which men might climb the sides. Even so I doubted that the assault on the ship would be successful. Although the Pani on the ship would be much outnumbered, they would have the advantage of position. Arrow fire would flow from the ship to the wharf, and from the wharf to the ship. Hundreds might be slain.

“Go back,” I begged the men. “Go back! There will be much killing. Remember the mutiny! Nothing will be accomplished. Much will be lost. The wharf will run with blood. Go back!”

“Step aside, friend of Rutilius,” said Tereus, “or meet our steel.”

“Kill him!” said more than one man.

“We are going to open the gate,” said Tereus.

“That will not be necessary,” said a quiet, polite voice, but one which somehow carried.

“Lord Nishida,” said men.

This high officer had approached, unnoticed, from the side.

Not one Pani warrior was with him.

I thought he must be a fellow of great courage. Surely he must understand the men were frightened, resolved, and desperate.

As Lord Nishida turned, benignly, toward me, I bowed, not knowing anything else to do, which bow he returned, politely. His hands were in his sleeves.

“Noble Callias,” he said, “your effort at the gate is commendable, if somewhat foolish. Nonetheless, it is appreciated, and it will not be forgotten.”

“Noble Lord,” said Tereus, “open the gate.”

“You are the oarsman, Tereus, are you not?” inquired Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” said Tereus.

“I find it surprising,” said Lord Nishida, “that you, an oarsman, should be the captain of this enterprise.”

“Open the gate!” called a man.

“There must be men here from several decks,” said Lord Nishida. “Something like this must have taken careful planning, thorough preparation, and meticulous organization. The expeditious marshaling of the men here, from diverse locations, and the timing of their confluence at the gate is also impressive.”

“Lord Temmu will be mustering Pani!” said a fellow.

“Not at all,” said Lord Nishida, quietly.

“Open the gate!” called another man, frightened, angrily.

“I request,” said Lord Nishida, “that you Tereus, and your friends, return to the feast.”

“Lord Nishida,” said Tereus, “open the gate.”

“Certainly,” said Lord Nishida, indicating that the Pani guards open the gate. I stood to the side, bewildered.

I was more startled when I saw the other two gates between the courtyard and the steep, downward trail to the wharf already stood open.

The men, led by Tereus, rushed past us, through the opened gate. In moments Lord Nishida, the four Pani guards, myself, and two or three armsmen in the vicinity, were alone, by the gate.

“There will be terrible bloodshed on the wharf,” I said to Lord Nishida.

“I think not,” he said.