The Usurper

51

“Let us in! Let us in!” screamed Viviana, pounding on the stockade gate, outside the compound of Ingeld on Tenguthaxichai.

“Please! Please!” wept Alacida.

“We are cold!” cried Viviana.

“Give us clothing!” cried Alacida.

“We are hungry!” cried Viviana.

“We fear a beast is about!” cried Alacida.

It may be recalled that it was a dark, cold, stormy, windy night when Abrogastes entered the hall of Ingeld. It may also be recalled that the princesses had made known their disinclination, after what must have been a painful interview, to remain any longer the guests of Drisriaks. “Let us go!” had cried Viviana, to which request Alacida had readily and earnestly assented. To this request, as it may also be recalled, Abrogastes had acceded. “Well, then,” he had said, “let us release them.”

Shortly thereafter, at the hands of several willing Drisriaks, armsmen of Abrogastes, the clothing of the princesses had been torn from their bodies, and they had been conducted, stumbling, from the hall, bent over, the hair of each in the rude, tight grasp of a Drisriak armsman, their head held close at his right hip, a familiar leading position for slaves, but scarcely for princesses.

At that time it was still pouring, with a chill rain, and the yard was a sea of mud.

The gate in the palisade was opened, and the princesses were thrust outside. Viviana, we fear, fell. But she was soon again on her feet, and, followed by the weeping Alacida, sped into the darkness. The ground around the palisaded compound was cleared for something like a hundred yards on all sides, a military precaution to make a surreptitious approach difficult, and to provide defenders, on the catwalk behind the palisade, with a clear range of fire. In a few moments the girls, panting, and muddied, particularly Viviana, had made their way through the downpour, and reached the trees of the surrounding woods. It was quite dark. There was, at that time, no light at the palisade. There was, however, an occasional flash of lighting, which suddenly illuminated the terrain, the palisade in the distance, the falling rain, until the darkness fell again, accompanied by closer or more distant rumbles of thunder.

In the woods there was some shelter from the rain, but, given the ferocity of the storm, and the time of year, less than might have been desired. Leaves and branches can only sustain certain weights of rain, until they bend or turn, and the water spills to yet lower branches and leaves, and so on. Eventually much of the water, directly or indirectly, reaches the ground. Too, as it was late fall in this latitude of Tenguthaxichai many of the nearby trees were rather denuded of leaves.

“We have escaped!” announced Viviana, holding her arms about herself, shivering.

“To what, dear sister?” moaned Alacida.

“We can hide in the forest, no one will be able to find us,” said Viviana.

“They may not want to find us,” said Alacida.

“They will not do so,” said Viviana. “Rejoice, dear sister, we have escaped.”

“We did not escape,” said Alacida. “They put us out!”

“We will hide ourselves in the woods, until we are rescued,” said Viviana.

“We will not be rescued!” said Alacida. “No one knows where we are. There are thousands of worlds. Supposedly our absence has not even been made publicly known. It seems plausible, as the handsome, barbarian prince said, that ships remain in their housings. Why should they not? Where would they look for us? The empire must wait for word from our captors, issuing demands for ransom, or such. What else can they do? Surely resources essential to the defense of the empire cannot be randomly and extensively expended, perhaps for months, for years. It would be absurd, insane, inconceivable, suicidal. Indeed, some attempt in force to rescue us might result in our end, either in the attack or at the hands of our captors. We must return to the hall, and beg for admittance!”

“Never!” cried Viviana.

“We will die here, of cold and hunger,” wept Alacida.

“As princesses then,” said Viviana, “as princesses of the royal blood!”

“You think either to be rescued, or that the barbarians will relent,” said Alacida.

“We are prized, we are needed,” said Viviana, “by the empire, by the barbarians.”

“The empire does not need us,” said Alacida. “There are others who bear royal blood, as well, a hundred cousins!”

“The empire will seek us out,” said Viviana. “They dare not risk our mating with barbarians.”

“If we are destroyed,” said Alacida, “either in some massive attack by imperial ships or by the barbarians, it need not be concerned in such a matter.”

“Surely the barbarians need us,” said Viviana, shivering, “to further their vulgar, daring schemes.”

“We are no good to the barbarians, if we are not cooperative,” said Alacida. “The emperor and the senate would never recognize a forced marriage. If we do not accept these suits, we are useless to the barbarians. Do you not understand? They put us out. They will seek other stratagems. It is nothing to them if we should die in the woods!”

“Surely not,” said Viviana, shuddering, holding her arms about herself.

Suddenly branches, scattering chill, drenching water, shook about them, a torrent of wind, from the north, swirling through the crowded, dark trees.

“These are not men of civilization,” said Alacida, “sensitive and courteous, attentive and understanding, trained in etiquette, shaped by convention, who would never dare to let a free woman be displeased or uncomfortable. These are not like the men we know, not men as you think men are. These are barbarians, honestly self-seeking men, unapologetic, determined men, men of enterprise and will, men of decision and deeds, men of the hunt, of the battle, of the ax and sword, men who loathe the empire, and would not care if it perished in flames, men who despise such as we, and, if they cannot get from us what they desire, would view with equanimity our perishing in the woods.”

“Surely not!” moaned Viviana.

“I am cold!” said Alacida. “I shiver. I am soaked with rain. My eyes sting. My feet hurt, from dried leaves, branches, and stones.”

“We must be brave,” said Viviana. “We need only wait a moment. The barbarians will come to fetch us, and beg us to return.”

“I see no light at the palisade,” said Alacida. “I see no opened gate, no lanterns moving through the night, searching for us.”

“Be of good cheer, sister,” said Viviana. “Take heart. The storm abates. The sky is no longer riven. Lightning has fled. Thunder is faraway.”

“The wind is incessant, and cold,” said Alacida. “It has claws of ice. They clutch at me. The night is dark. I freeze.”

“Hold your arms about yourself,” said Viviana.

“I am,” said Alacida.

“How am I to know?” asked Viviana. “It is dark.”

“I would give all my jewels for a blanket,” said Alacida.

“Do not be foolish,” said Viviana. “The least of your jewels would buy a hundred blankets.”

“I am hungry,” said Alacida.

“Certainly you would not have had us consume the simple barbarian provender put before us this noon?” said Viviana.

“You would not let me,” said Alacida.

“Served by half-naked barbarian slaves,” added Viviana.

“Some, I fear, were women of the empire,” said Alacida.

“Surely not,” said Viviana.

“They were forbidden to speak,” said Alacida.

“Fittingly, as they were slaves,” said Viviana.

“It is dark, and I am cold,” said Alacida.

“The rain is less,” said Viviana.

“I am hungry, terribly hungry,” said Alacida.

“When the storm is done, and it is light,” said Viviana, “we can search for food.”

“When the storm is done,” said Alacida, “other things, as well, and it need not be light, may search for food.”

“Other things?” said Viviana.

“Yes!” said Alacida, weeping.

“Do you see any light at the palisade, any lanterns?” asked Viviana, anxiously.

“No!” said Alacida.

“Where can they be?” asked Viviana.

“Inside, warm, feasting,” said Alacida, bitterly.

“I, too, might part with a jewel, a small one, for a blanket,” said Viviana.

“Perhaps we should petition readmittance,” said Alacida.

“No,” said Viviana. “They will soon emerge, searching for us. And then, after a suitable interval, we may, if it seems proper, and lest they be too distraught, permit ourselves to be found. They may then conduct us within, contritely, in dignity and honor.”

“These are not men of civilization,” said Alacida. “Think! These are barbarians, and we are women, only women.”

“Royal princesses!” insisted Viviana.

“Women, only women,” said Alacida. And sweet, dark-haired Alacida, who had feared she might not be superior to sex, trembled, and pondered the apparent fact, that, whatever might be its import, women were different, very different, from men. Once, when she was very young, only a girl, with her chaperones, in the vicinity of a market, in Telnar, she had heard a man remark that women were property. Later the same day, she had eavesdropped on slaves, she standing in the street, in her girl’s robes, outside a street-level, barred window, that of a market dungeon, and listened to the girls within, possibly to be sold that afternoon. She had not heard them lamenting, as one might expect, their degraded status and impending fate, wearing their informative, debasing placards on a slave shelf, but rather, eager and delighted at their impending sale, they clearly welcomed and celebrated their propertyhood; they found fulfillment and reassurance in their status as vendible, meaningless objects; they wanted nothing else; they scorned freedom; they wanted to be what they were, properties, the properties of men; they had experienced the slave’s freedom and joy; now they wished nothing else; they wanted to be purchased and owned, by a fine, kind, strong man, one severe and uncompromising, but understanding and nurturing, one who would master them with perfection, wholly, one before whom they would be, and know themselves, slaves.

“The storm is over,” said Viviana. “We shall wait here until morning.”

“We may be dead by morning,” said Alacida.

“Surely not,” said Viviana.

“I am stiff with cold,” said Alacida. “I can hardly move.”

“Perhaps,” said Viviana, “as the rain has stopped, we might venture a bit into the clearing, merely to see if we might be hailed, and invited within the palisade.”

“It is too dark,” said Alacida. “They would not see us.”

“There is no light at the palisade?” said Viviana.

“No,” said Alacida.

“What shall we do?” asked Viviana.

“Let us approach, and call out, while we have the strength,” said Alacida.

“Certainly not,” said Viviana. “That would be unthinkable.”

“Sister!” cried Alacida.

“What?” said Viviana, startled.

“I heard something, there!” said Alacida.

“I heard nothing,” said Viviana, “and, if you are pointing, I cannot see where you are pointing. It is too dark.”

“Listen!” said Alacida.

“I hear nothing,” said Viviana.

“It is quiet now,” said Alacida.

“It is the wind, stirring the leaves,” said Viviana.

“Only now?” asked Alacida.

“One supposes so,” said Viviana, uneasily.

“The leaves are wet, flat, thick, carpeted,” said Alacida.

“So?” said Viviana.

“Something stirred the leaves,” said Alacida. “And it was not the wind.”

“We are alone,” said Viviana.

“I do not think so,” said Alacida. “Be silent, please, dear sister.”

“It will not be light for hours,” said Viviana.

“There!” cried Alacida. “I heard it again, closer!”

The vi-cat, like the princesses, was quite possibly hungry, that it should emerge from its den in such a muddy, half-flooded terrain, particularly as, with its long, rough tongue, it tends to keep its fur dry and groomed. To be sure, we do not know that, that it was hungry. It may have emerged from its den simply because of curiosity, having detected, with its unusually acute hearing, unusual sounds. The vi-cat does tend to be a curious, investigatory animal.

The vi-cat is a common form of life on several of the Telnarian worlds. It is not known to what world it is native, as that knowledge, if it was ever possessed, at least by Telnarians, was lost long ago. Varna, Tangara, Terennia, have all been suggested, even Telnaria itself. What is known is that, in historical times, the vi-cat was introduced into several worlds, usually to cull flocks and herds, sometimes on game worlds. Too, the interaction of prey and predator obviously favors certain features in both, for example, in a prey animal, alertness, width of peripheral vision, acuity of smell, fleetness, and such, and, in the predatory animal, a binocular focus in vision, teeth, claws, stealth, strength, swiftness, and such. Too, on some worlds the vi-cat was apparently introduced as being an animal worthy of being hunted by emperors, when emperors were concerned with such things. The vi-cat, too, is a favored arena animal. Whereas most vi-cats are found in the wild, some are bred for various purposes by rational species. On the other hand, dogs and wolves are more easily trained. It is not unknown for even a domestic vi-cat, with several generations of domesticity behind it, to turn and attack its Master without warning. The vi-cat has its place in the literature of several worlds, figuring in proverbs, fables, folk tales, and such. Among the Otungs, as we learned earlier, the pelt of the white vi-cat is assigned some symbolic significance, being regarded as appropriate, for example, for the cloak of a king.

At this point, we suppose the vi-cat in the vicinity of the princesses, here in the vicinity of the compound of Ingeld on Tenguthaxichai, was, at least initially, more puzzled than aggressive. Surely encountering two soft-skinned young animals of an unusual species, the human, in the forest after a storm was not a frequent occurrence within its experience. It might also be noted that, whereas the vi-cat, if sufficiently hungry, will attack anything, even a torodont, its customary prey is what we might call “the fleet ones,” and not the human. Too, perhaps the vi-cat, if pondering a charge, was somewhat distracted not only by the unusual nature of the possible prey objects but by there being two. Which would it first attack? If it attacked one, it would presumably lose the other. An analogy, though one not all that profitable or convincing, would be the value of schooling amongst certain forms of fish. For example, a single fish may be easily detected, and easily pursued, and often seized, but if it is flickering about in a shimmering swirl of similar fish, it is much more elusive. A similar problem seldom occurs, incidentally, with a land predator, such as the Persian lion, the vi-cat, the Megarian leaper, or the fanged ort. This seems to be for two reasons, first, the difference between land and marine predation, such as differences in size of the prey group, the type of movement involved, and the attack dimension, which, for the land predator is simpler, and more one dimensional; second, differentiation amongst prey animals. Fish in a school seem much the same, but in a herd or flock, some animals are likely to be slower, weaker, older, sicker, more isolated, and such, and, statistically, these will be most at risk. While the vi-cat was possibly puzzling the matter out, it had tended to approach the two princesses in the typical fashion of the vi-cat, low, tail nervously lashing, a quick forward movement, then stillness, then another quick forward movement, and so on, until, of course the charge. It seems clear that it was at least two of these short, quick movements which Alacida had heard.

What decided the princesses to vacate the supposed shelter of the woods, emanating from a source not feet away from them, was an unmistakably menacing sound, a rumble or growl in the darkness. They may not have understood this sound as the growl of a vi-cat, but there was no mistaking that its source was large and dangerous. It is not clear whether or not the vi-cat had given this announcement of its presence intentionally or unintentionally. It might have been a simple inadvertent expression of its curiosity or puzzlement; it may have been deliberate, to wait for a response, in this problematic situation. In any event, the princesses did something very understandable, if, possibly, very foolish, which was to cry out and race, in terror, toward the gate of the palisade.

Whereas the princesses were substantially in the darkness, and would have had great difficulty in seeing the vi-cat, even had they turned about and cared to do so, the vi-cat suffered from no comparable handicap, as it, as many predators, had excellent night vision.

The princesses fled, screaming, toward the palisade gate.

The vi-cat, presumably still puzzled, padded along, behind them, remaining some yards in the rear.

“Let us in! Let us in!” had screamed Viviana, pounding on the stockade gate, outside the compound of Ingeld on Tenguthaxichai.

“Please! Please!” had wept Alacida.

“We are cold!” had cried Viviana.

“Give us clothing!” had cried Alacida.

“We are hungry!” had cried Viviana.

“We fear a beast is about!” had cried Alacida.

“There is a beast about!” cried Viviana. “I am sure of it! We heard it! Let us in! We are cold! We are hungry! We are princesses of the empire! We are unclothed! Mercy! Have mercy!”

“Please!” wept Viviana.

After a time, presumably to investigate the commotion at the gate, a lantern, borne by someone, it could not be clearly seen who, on the catwalk behind the palisade, appeared, several feet above the piteous, desperate princesses.

“Let us in! Please! Please!” called the princesses, looking up toward the light, their faces, and fair forms, illuminated in the light, they standing in the mud below.

The lantern then disappeared.

The princesses turned about to peer into the darkness. But they could see nothing.

“Is it there?” asked Alacida.

“I do not know!” said Viviana, in misery.

Then, again, Viviana pounded on the gate, weeping.

After a time the lantern again appeared, above them, held over the palisade wall.

Alacida turned about, again, looking back, into the darkness, toward the woods, and screamed.

Viviana, turning, too, screamed in fear.

Reflected in the lantern light, like two burning coals, were the eyes of the vi-cat, only yards away, its body low, almost flat on the ground, its powerful legs gathered under it, like springs.

They heard heavy metal keys thrust into massive locks, and turned, and then a jangling of metal and chain, and, a bit later, two wooden bars being slid free of their metal housings, behind the gate.

The gate opened, some two yards or so, but the princesses, to their dismay, could not enter, for the way was blocked by a number of armed men. Of these men, two carried lanterns, and one a torch. There was no mistaking the massive, stern figure of Abrogastes, foremost amongst these fellows, mostly armsmen and retainers. On either side of Abrogastes were his sons, Ingeld and Hrothgar.

“On your bellies!” said Abrogastes.

The terrified princesses then placed themselves prone, naked, in the mud, before Abrogastes.

Doubtless it was the first time they had been bellied before males.

“Which one do you want?” Abrogastes asked Ingeld, who had priority, as a prior son to a subsequent son. The annals are clear that Ingeld was the second son of Abrogastes. The ranking of Hrothgar is less clear. It is usually supposed he was the third or fourth son of Abrogastes. As noted earlier, some of the sons of Abrogastes are known only by brief references, and some by name only. Too, the names of some may not have figured in the imperial records, at all.

“The blond slut,” said Ingeld.

“You,” said Abrogastes, to Viviana, “crawl to him on your belly. Cover his boots with kisses, and then speak as follows. ‘I, Viviana, princess of the empire, despite my unworthiness, beg on my belly to be permitted to be the bride of Ingeld, prince of the Drisriaks.’ You will then kiss again his boots, in further supplication. Following that you are to rise to all fours and, head down, wait to the side. We will tell you then what you are to do.”

Shuddering, Viviana complied.

“Next, you,” said Abrogastes to Alacida.

Alacida then crawled on her belly, through the mud, to the feet of Hrothgar, and pressed her lovely lips to his boots, ministering to them as though she might have been no more than a slave. “I, Alacida,” she said, “princess of the empire, despite my unworthiness, beg on my belly to be permitted to be the bride of Hrothgar, prince of the Drisriaks.” She then, as had her sister, again addressed her lips to his boots. Afterwards, she, too, rose to all fours, and, head down, went to wait beside her sister. They were now similar to two docile, obedient quadrupeds.

Both were concerned, though neither spoke of the matter, at the strange feelings which had been precipitated in their bodies.

They now knew that they were different from what they had been before.

“Away! Away!” cried the retainer with the torch, thrusting it in the direction of the vi-cat, which then snarled, but turned about, and padded back to the woods.

The gate was then closed, and secured.

“Dear Princesses,” said Abrogastes, turning to the positioned princesses, “we shall consider your petition. If we see fit to accept it, you will sit upon jeweled thrones and be the mothers of emperors. If we do not accept it, you will be collared and sold on far mud worlds, never to be heard of again in the empire. Do you understand?”

“Yes, great Lord,” said Viviana.

“Yes, great Lord,” said Alacida.

Abrogastes then turned to one of his armsmen. “Herd these two imperial sows back, as they are, on all fours, head down, to the hall, and then place them on their bellies, before the high seat. We will consider whether or not to chain them, naked, later.”

“Yes, Lord,” said the armsman, and he thrust a whimpering Viviana forward, with the butt of his spear.

When the princesses were out of earshot, Ingeld turned to Abrogastes. “Things may not proceed as easily as envisaged, father,” he said.

“Let us suppose,” said Abrogastes, “the princesses now understand two things, that they are women, and where their best interests lie.”

“Things are not so simple, father,” said Ingeld. “Surely one needs more than the mere acquiescence of princesses in this matter. There is the acceptance of such things, by the empire, the throne, the senate. Who would honor, or ratify, a putative union supposedly formed faraway on a foreign world? Is it to be taken seriously? Might it not have been enacted under duress? Is it authentic, genuine, meaningful?”

“I have made arrangements,” said Abrogastes. “The marriages will take place in Telnar itself, openly, and publicly. They will be proclaimed broadly, throughout the empire; they will be anticipated eagerly; they will be celebrated with elaborate ceremony, with detailed pomp and pageantry, with formality and complex ritual. All will look forward to this most desired consummation, bearing in its train peace and the union of peoples.”

“I find it hard to believe these arrangements would be entered into by the throne,” said Ingeld.

“The throne is not the only force in Telnaria,” said Abrogastes.

“I do not understand,” said Ingeld.

“The marriages will be performed by the Exarch of Telnar himself,” said Abrogastes. “He will bestow on them the supposed blessing of a faith. Interestingly, some take such things seriously. In short, he will allegedly, in the foolishness he propagates, solemnize things, sanctify matters, and so on. Advantages obtain in such a procedure. We gain standing and legitimacy, and he gains prestige and power. We serve each other. We play his stupid game and his game, in our playing of it, is confirmed as the game to play.”

“I think,” said Ingeld, “the exarch has more in mind.”

“Why should you think that?” asked Abrogastes.

“It is a thought, I have,” said Ingeld, warily.

“You are right,” said Abrogastes. “He wants to own the empire. “The koos, whatever that is, is to be superior to the fist. The fist is to fight for the koos, obey the koos, do the work of the koos, and so on. In this way the koos gets its way and does not have to risk skinning its own knuckles.”

“Who knows,” asked Ingeld, “what the koos wants?”

“That is made clear by the spokesman for the koos,” said Abrogastes.

“The exarch,” said Ingeld.

“Of course,” said Abrogastes.

“Surely, if we obtain the empire, by our steel, our ships, our blood, our toil, you would not surrender it to some sleek, cowardly, pernicious fraud,” said Ingeld.

“Fortunately for frauds, they are few,” said Abrogastes. “Otherwise they could not batten with impunity on the trust of the many. They take advantage of the honesty and decency of the many. A population of frauds would soon have no frauds or be extinct.”

“It seems so,” said Ingeld. “But surely you would not surrender a won prize to the deceit and contrivance of an ambitious spectator.”

“Perhaps the spectator might make the prize more accessible,” said Abrogastes.

“I do not understand,” said Ingeld.

“An interesting thing about liars and frauds,” said Abrogastes, “is that they do not expect to be lied to, or defrauded. They assume that those with whom they deal dishonestly will deal honestly with them.”

“And they may not?” said Ingeld.

“I see no harm in betraying the betrayer, in doing treason to the treasonous, in lying to the liar, in defrauding the fraudulent.”

“You would use the exarch for your ends, as he would use you for his?” said Ingeld.

“Yes,” said Abrogastes. “And, if necessary, or if it seems judicious, he can always be martyred at one’s convenience. The sword of the fist has a clear advantage over that of the koos. It exists. The sword of the koos is helpless without the sword of the fist; the sword of the fist, as it is real, does not need the sword of the koos.”

“The princesses are scarcely in a condition to participate in the splendor of some imperial wedding,” said Ingeld.

“They can be washed up, brushed and combed,” said Abrogastes. “Too, it would not do to put them muddy in the tiny kennels I have prepared for them.”

“We brought them from Telnar with only the clothes on their backs,” said Ingeld, “and those, thanks to the attentions of your armsmen, are in shreds.”

“Do not fear,” said Abrogastes. “We will look after our lovely guests. We will fit them out, appropriately. They will have gowns and jewels, tiaras, entire wardrobes. They will awe multitudes.”

“I think there is little of that sort here,” said Ingeld, “wardrobes, tiaras, and such. This is Tenguthaxichai. This is a little-known world, rude, simple, unspoiled, little settled, known to few but Alemanni.”

“Our agents have been in touch with gown-and-jewel merchants on four worlds, including Telnaria,” said Abrogastes. “The merchants contacted will know nothing of princesses. They will think their goods are sought for the daughters of kings.”

“How will they find Tenguthaxichai?” asked Ingeld.

“Gold has been bestowed, ships may be hired, coordinates will be supplied,” said Abrogastes.

“Surely it will be difficult to keep such things secret,” said Ingeld.

“Certainly,” said Abrogastes.

“Do you know which merchants our agents have contacted?” asked Ingeld.

“No, but several,” said Abrogastes.

“There is then danger,” said Ingeld.

“No,” said Abrogastes.

“Yes, dear father,” said Ingeld. “Unwelcome visitors, agents of the empire, impostors, pirates, raiders, spies.”

“Of course,” said Abrogastes.

“You expect them?”

“Yes.”

“Then you see the danger,” said Ingeld.

“No,” said Abrogastes. “Those contacted by our agents will have something impostors will not.”

“What, father?” asked Ingeld.

“The password,” said Abrogastes.