The King

CHAPTER 20

“He is awakening,” she said.

“Do not hurt me,” she said.

The blond giant’s hand had grasped her wrist. His brow was wet, from the cloth with which she had wiped it.

He released her wrist.

“Leave,” said a voice, that of a Herul, who was sitting back, in the shadows.

Not speaking, she gathered her pan of warm water, and, with the cloth and sponges, and a whisk of her long skirt, hurried away.

It was a woman of his own species, or seemed so. Heruls kept such, he knew, for labor, and diversion. The giant did not object, as they were females.

“She is the daughter of an Otung noble,” said the Herul.

The giant moved his legs a little. The clasp of the chains was then evident.

“You have been unconscious for four days,” said the Herul.

“You are old-for a Herul,” said the giant.

“You are surprised?” asked the Herul.

“Yes,” said the giant.

Heruls kill the old and the weak, the stupid, the lame, the deformed.

“I am still hardy,” said the Herul. “If I am to be killed, someone must do it. I have killed four. They will let me alone now, I think, for a time.”

“You are a warrior,” said the giant.

“I have ridden,” admitted the Herul. “Would you like to have her, tonight?” he asked.

“Yes,” said the giant.

“She is a slave,” said the Herul. “Do not fail to use her as such.”

“I will not,” said the giant.

“You are in the wagon of my friend,” said the Herul. “It was he who captured you, who brought you in. He was the leader of a party of seven, three only of which returned.”

“Who are you?” asked the giant.

“It does not matter,” said the Herul.

“What is to be done with me?”

“You must regain your strength,” said the Herul. “I will have broth brought to you, and, in a day, curds, and then, later, meat.”

“Mujiin is proud of you,” said the Herul.

“Who is Mujiin?” asked the giant.

“He who captured you,” said the Herul.

“What is your people?” asked the Herul.

“I have no people,” said the giant.

“You are an Otung,” said the Herul.

“I am chieftain of the Wolfungs,” said the giant.

“I do not know that tribe,” said the Herul.

“It is a tribe of the Vandal nation,” said the giant.

“One knows the Vandals, of course,” said the Herul, “-the Otung Vandals, the Basung Vandals, and such.”

“Its remnants were banished to a far world, Varna,” said the giant.

“How is it that you are on Tangara?” asked the Herul.

“I am commissioned captain in the imperial auxilia,” said the giant, “entitled to recruit comitates, comites, companions, a comitatus, a military company, for service under the imperial standard. I seek Otungs for this purpose.”

“Strange,” said the Herul.

“Why?” asked the giant.

“Little love is lost between the empire and the Otungs,” said the Herul.

“Nor,” said the giant, “between the empire and the Heruls.”

“True,” said the Herul.

“There were two men who were captured on the plains,” said the giant. “What was done with them?”

“They drew you here, on a sledge,” said the Herul. “Then they were bound, and their throats were cut, and they were fed to the dogs.”

The giant regarded him.

“They had not fought,” said the Herul.

The giant lay back on the rude, low couch.

“To be sure,” said the Herul, “they crossed the Lothar, and that must have taken courage.

“I can remember when Basungs fought,” said the Herul.

“They were then Vandals, Basung Vandals,” said the giant.

“Yes,” said the Herul.

“What of the Otungs?” asked the giant.

“We broke them, long ago, and have denied to their fugitive remnants horses, and the plains. They are not permitted to come forth from their forests, except at times to trade with us, honey, pelts, produce from their small plots, such things, for leather, hides, glue and horn, and excess trade goods, which we, by similar exchanges, have obtained from merchants of Ifeng.”

“Venitzia?”

“That is the Telnarian name for the place,” said the Herul. “There is a good spring there.”

“Why do you not go into the forests and kill them?” asked the giant.

“We are horsemen,” said the Herul. “In the forests it is very dangerous for us. We do raid in them, afoot, sometimes, for sport. It was in such a raid, two years ago, that we captured Yata, and others, while they were bathing.”

“Yata?”

“The slave,” said the Herul. “It was but a moment’s work to bind and gag them, wrap them securely in camouflaged blankets and tie them on narrow frameworks of poles, which frameworks we then drew after us, reaching, two days later, the edge of the forest. Once there, where our horses were waiting, we untied their ankle cords, put them in coffle, and marched them, under the knout, to the wagons. They marched quickly, and well.”

“I do not doubt it,” said the giant.

“We take others,” said the Herul, “as they fall to us; some are captured in raids, as were Yata and her maidens; some are caught outside the forests, herding pigs, gathering herbs, and such; some are given to us as tokens of good will; some are sold to us; some are received in trade, such things. But these are usually not high women, and many are only beautiful, unwanted daughters.”

“You take only the beautiful ones?”

“Of course,” said the Herul. “For we may have to dispose of them in Venitzia later. We reject the others. But we do not take all the beautiful ones, as we wish to leave them enough beauties to breed, that more beauties may be regularly produced.”

“You seem interested in me,” said the giant.

“I am curious about you,” said the Herul.

“Why?”

“You remind me of someone,” said the Herul, “someone I saw once, long ago, one to whom I once lifted my lance.”

“An Otung?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“It does not matter,” said the Herul.

The Herul rose up. He approached the couch. He looked down upon the blond giant.

“May I touch you?” asked the Herul.

The giant did not move.

The right tentacle of the Herul uncoiled itself and its tip rested on the right forearm of the giant. The giant detected a movement within the tentacle.

“Ah!” said the Herul.

The tentacle withdrew.

The giant looked up at the Herul.

“It is as I thought,” said the Herul.

“What?” asked the giant.

“Nothing,” said the Herul.

“What?” asked the giant.

“We have met before,” said the Herul.

“No,” said the giant.

“You are from the festung village of Sim Giadini,” said the Herul.

“How could you know that?” asked the giant.

“That is not important,” said the Herul.

“We have met?”

“Yes.”

“I was very young?” said the giant.

“Yes,” said the Herul, “you were very young.”

“I do not think the Heruls keep male prisoners, or slaves,” said the giant.

“You are right,” said the Herul.

“What is to be done with me?”

“You will see,” said the Herul. He then turned away, and went to the door of the broad, roomlike wagon. “I will have broth brought to you,” he said.

“By Yata?” asked the giant.

“Yes,” said the Herul.

“She is to remove her garments while serving me,” said the giant.

“Of course,” said the Herul.