The Usurper

57

“What is going on here?” demanded Farrix. “Move back!”

“I and my colleagues,” said the merchant, “have come for the feast.”

“There is no feast,” said Farrix. “Beware that you are not trampled.”

One of the horses growled, and shied its massive form to the side.

“They are large, are they not?” said the merchant.

“Beware you do not lose an arm,” said Farrix.

“To be sure, I am early, but so, too, I see, are others,” said the merchant.

“There is no feast here,” said Farrix.

“Is this not the yard behind the hall of noble Abrogastes?” asked the merchant.

“It is,” said Farrix, angrily.

“Then this is the place,” said the merchant.

“What do you need these cumbersome beasts for?” asked another.

“They are half the size of a torodont,” said another.

“I have seen some as large,” said another.

“What are these beasts for?” asked another.

“They are to draw wagons with crates of steaming viands from the kitchens, kegs of bror and kana,” said another.

“Go away,” said Farrix.

“We are here for the feast,” said another merchant, one in yellow robes.

“There is no feast here,” said Farrix.

“You must be mistaken,” said a merchant. “The word is all over the compound. The noble Alemanni are entertaining all the delegations with a great feast. It is celebrating the end of the selling, and in anticipation of the joyous unitings of princes and princesses. See? Here come several others, in festive regalia. There is no gainsaying the generosity of the Alemanni.”

“There is no feast!” said Farrix.

“Do you mean to say you have not been told?” asked another merchant. He looked about. “Where are the tables, the benches, the tents?”

“There is no feast,” said Farrix. “Be careful there! The animals are not used to crowds.”

“Here come more guests, at least a hundred,” said a merchant.

“Many have brought their domicile slaves,” said another merchant.

“And retainers,” said another.

“You there,” said Farrix. “You, big fellow, you in the hood, you on the other side of the horse. It is dangerous. It could turn and seize you. Get away from it.”

As the large fellow did not much move, and seemed inclined, rather, to stroke the beast, perhaps to pacify it, Farrix, angrily, moved about the large form.

“Away!” he said, waving his arm. “There is no feast!”

“There are different sorts of feasts,” said the large man in the saffron merchant robes. “There are feasts of blood, of steel, of joy, of vengeance, of war, of peace, of hate, of justice.”

“You!” cried Farrix.

A massive hand thrust forth from the saffron sleeve and seized Farrix by the throat, and shook him, and Farrix fell dazed, gasping for breath, at Otto’s feet. It took Otto only a moment or two to fasten the ropes on Farrix’s half inert, shuddering form, a rope on each limb. He then led the animals in such a way as to tauten the ropes.

“I would lie quietly, friend,” said Otto. “A quick word and a few slaps and these four fine beasts will go their separate ways.”

“Do not stir the beasts!” said Farrix.

“What is this all about?” asked a merchant, curious.

“Entertainment, for the feast,” said Otto.

“How is he to free himself?” asked a merchant.

“You must wait, and see,” said Otto.

“You are listening to me, are you not?” Otto inquired of the prostrate Farrix.

“Yes!” said Farrix. “Do not stir the horses. You do not know them. The slightest signal might stampede them.”

“This is interesting,” said a merchant.

“I think so,” said Otto.

“What do you want?” whispered Farrix.

“Your men are about,” said Otto, “or will soon be about, with prisoners. They may be here now, somewhere in the crowd. Call out to them. Tell them to come here, unbind the prisoners, and submit themselves for binding with the same ropes.”

“Why should I do that?” said Farrix.

“I am prepared to start the horses,” said Otto.

“Wait!” said Farrix. “Einar, Eserich! To me!”

Shortly thereafter, though Farrix need call twice, his men, with their bound prisoners, made their way through the crowd to rendezvous with their chief. And a bit after that, Julian, Tuvo Ausonius, and Rurik were freed of their ropes, which were then transferred to the limbs of the two fellows we suppose must have been Einar and Eserich.

Rurik’s slave, Cornhair, her wrists bound behind her, and on a leash, it now dangling from her leather leash collar, had been brought along, apparently to witness the proceedings, and absorb a lesson as to what might be the fate of a slave who might prove to be less than fully pleasing. There were bruises on her arms, legs, and face. She now knelt near Rurik, her head down.

“Free me, now,” said Farrix. “I have had done what you asked.”

One of the horses began to scratch at the turf with its clawed paw.

“It is getting restless,” said Otto. “I suspect it is waiting for the signal.”

“If one bolts, the others will bolt,” said Farrix. “They have been used in this place before!”

“Why is the slave bruised?” asked Otto of Rurik.

“She was reluctant to afflict me with the torture of the lascivious slave girl,” said Rurik.

“She would arouse you while you were helpless, for the sport of your captors, that they might jeer you,” said Otto.

“Yes,” said Rurik.

“Do not stir the horses!” said Farrix.

“She was slow to obey the command of a free man?” said Otto.

“Yes,” said Rurik.

“But she saw reason,” said Otto.

“Even after being struck, she was reluctant,” said Rurik.

“Apparently she thinks little enough of her life,” said Otto.

“She obeyed quickly enough when I cast upon her my frown,” said Rurik. “Slaves are not to dally or be disobedient. Such is cause for discipline.”

“The torture of the lascivious slave girl,” said Otto, “is most effective when the slave hates the man, and relishes her control over him, and how she may force him to writhe, yield, and explode at her pleasure, as though it were he in a collar, and not she.”

“It is effective only when she has Masters behind her, to support and protect her,” said Rurik, “for she is, and remains, only a woman and a slave.”

“I would not be the slave who falls into the power of the man whom she so enjoyed abusing,” said Otto.

“Cornhair’s heart was not in her work,” said Rurik.

“Of course not,” said Otto. “You are her Master. She knows it is she, and not you, who are to be controlled, grasped, owned, mastered, handled, caressed, and put to pleasure.”

“That reminds me,” said Rurik. “The slave was slow to obey the command of a free man. That is cause for discipline.”

“The horses, the horses,” whispered Farrix. “Free me!”

Rurik then seized the hair of the kneeling slave, and yanked up her bowed head. “You were slow to obey the command of a free man,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

He then cuffed her, sharply, twice.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, went to her belly, and pressed her lips to his boot.

“She knows you are pleased with her,” said Otto. “She is very pleased.”

“I do not understand what is going on,” said a merchant. “I understand this is staged, that it is an entertainment, and all, but I do not understand the entertainment. Should this supine gentleman and the others not now free themselves, somehow, of the ropes, or be rescued, or such?”

“I trust the ropes are not truly tied,” said another.

“I think there is danger,” said another.

“Dismiss the thought,” said Otto.

“Horses are dangerous,” said another.

“Surely you cannot mean these,” said Otto. “Surely you cannot suppose that we might risk these nice fellows. Surely these beasts are as gentle, mild, and sweetly tempered as they are large.”

“Of course,” said a merchant.

“That is obvious,” said another.

“Where is the food?” asked another.

Otto then knelt near Farrix and, with a knife, taken from a guard who would not be likely to miss it for some time, the very fellow dragged within the hall of Ingeld, cut one of the ropes which bound Farrix to the harness of one of the horses.

“Do not speak loudly or quickly,” said Farrix.

Otto then severed a second rope.

“You will never escape,” said Farrix.

“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But I have seen to it that the ship is in readiness.”

“You will never reach the ship,” said Farrix.

“The camp guard is uninformed,” said Otto. “They know nothing of what has transpired here.”

“There is no way in which you can reach the ship,” said Farrix.

“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But what if there was a distraction, if a crowd was alarmingly disbanded, if many men, perhaps two hundred, with retainers, domicile slaves, and such, were rushing about, here and there, many in confusion, perhaps in panic.”

“But they are not,” said Farrix.

Otto then severed the third rope, and stood up.

This left one rope in place, that on the left ankle of Farrix.

“Cut the last rope,” said Farrix.

Otto looked down upon him, and smiled.

“No!” cried Farrix.

Otto’s sudden cry startled not only the horses but all those about him. The four horses sped away, in the four directions. But they met little or no resistance. It was not as they expected; it was not even like drawing a plow through Lion grass, or tearing a way through the vinelike Malik growth, or drawing the stump of the Farn tree from the earth. There was no exertion, no digging in, and then the tearing, and then the breaking free. Three of the horses, the ropes dangling behind them, raced away, unencumbered, plunging through the crowd, buffeting bodies aside like bundles of robed straw, and the fourth, too, raced way, scarcely less unencumbered, dragging its tethered burden, rolling and tumbling, by an ankle, plowing its own fresh, broad furrow through the surprised, festive thong. There was much crying out, screaming, and protesting. Soon the awareness that loose, hastening, uncontrolled beasts were abroad reached to the very edges of the crowd, which began to scatter.

“To the ships, to the ships!” cried Otto.

The horses themselves were doubtless confused. Two, beyond the crowd, turned about and, to the consternation of many, milling about, proceeded to make their way back to the point of their departure, that to which their harness managers had always returned them. The other two, including that which was conveying Farrix about, once clear of the crowd, unmanaged and undriven, perhaps unnerved or frightened by the many bodies about, the cries, the fluttering robes, began to race about, through the compound.

“Seek safety in the ships!” cried Otto.

Certainly several of those about heeded this recommendation, which was soon, voice by voice, broadcast throughout the compound, rather as Otto had anticipated.

At this point, Otto, Julian, Tuvo Ausonius, and Rurik joined the many merchants, retainers, and domicile slaves bent on reaching the ships, Cornhair, bound, the leash dangling from the leash collar, hurrying behind them.

In the ships there was indeed safety, rather as behind the safety wall in an arena, where bulls and torodonts are hunted.

The advice which Otto had offered to the multitude, it seems, had been sound, and, certainly, happily, it had been well received.

Before boarding, from the boarding ladder leading to the second hatchway, Otto paused and looked back.

The compound was now nearly deserted, save for some soldiers and grooms. Three of the horses were quiet, some men about them. One of the horses was being unharnessed. The fourth horse was more unruly, or skittish, perhaps because of its unforeseen impediment, perhaps not fully understood, an object attached to it by a rope. The horse moved about, skittishly. In a bit, three grooms had managed to turn it about, and close with it, and seize its harnessing. They freed it of its burden, which tried to rise to its feet, stood unsteadily for a moment, and then collapsed into the arms of a groom.

Otto then entered the ship, and the hatch was closed behind him.

Shortly thereafter, about the time several of the merchants, and their fellows, the danger, it seems, now past, were preparing to leave their ships and return to the compound, one ship, to the surprise of many, departed, leaving behind it the fields and forests of lovely Tenguthaxichai.