Swordsmen of Gor

“You shall, you shall,” I was assured.

At that moment we heard the roar of caged larls, as, down from the forest, came the cage wagons housing Lord Nishida’s pets, of which there were some ten, as I had counted, two from the pavilion, and some eight, who had prowled the wands. The larl, as noted, is not native to the northern forests.

“There are several decks on the ship,” Aetius was explaining to me, outlining, in general, their housings, functions, stores, and such, but I was not listening.

“What is wrong?” he inquired.

“I would see the daimyo, Lord Okimoto,” I said.

“You shall,” said Aetius.

“Now,” I said.

Aetius turned then away from the great frame, in which rested the ship of Tersites, like a mountain of fitted wood, a shaped, swelling geometry of tiered planking, and summoned three or four fellows to him, large, burly fellows, artisans I supposed, perhaps dock workers. He indicated me. “Seize and bind him,” he said.

Chapter Thirty-One

i hear of the selections

“We anticipated your reluctance, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” said Lord Nishida. “But you must try to understand.”

“Some things,” I said, “are not to be understood.”

“Do not judge where you do not yet understand,” he said.

“I understand what I am asked to understand,” I said, “but I choose not to understand.”

“You refuse?” asked Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

“Of course,” he said. “The codes.”

We sat across from one another, cross-legged, the small, low table between us.

“I expected it,” said Lord Nishida.

“You must intervene,” I said.

“Lord Okimoto is cousin to the shogun,” said Lord Nishida.

My bonds had been removed, but I had been kept in confinement, in a shed near the river.

“Pertinax, even Tajima, and Ichiro, and others, have objected,” said Lord Nishida.

I was silent.

“They have been reprimanded,” said Lord Nishida.

“Tortured, crucified?” I asked.

“Certainly not,” said Lord Nishida. “They are of value, even Pertinax. His skills increase. They will not be involved in the selections.”

“What of Nodachi, swordsman?” I asked.

“He is outside,” said Lord Nishida. “He is not involved.”

“I see,” I said.

“Too,” said Lord Nishida, “who could stand against him?”

“True,” I said.

“The selections will take place tomorrow,” said Lord Nishida.

“I will not participate,” I said.

“You will not be expected to participate,” said Lord Nishida. “You, and others, are outside the selections.”

“These men have fought for you,” I said.

“They are mercenaries,” said Lord Nishida, “and the dregs of such, chosen for skill and venality, brought from a hundred cities, from the ruins and rubble of Ar, from the alleys of Besnit and Harfax, from the wharves of Brundisium and Schendi, men without Home Stones, thieves, outlaws, murderers, outcasts, ronen, men carried by the currents, men whose word is worthless, men of no lords, save a stater or tarn disk of gold.”

“They have fought for you,” I said.

“No one needs fight who does not wish it,” said Lord Nishida. “The matter is simple, pairs will be matched, and a golden tarn disk to the survivor, and a berth on the great ship.”

“Perhaps, with a tarn disk of gold in his purse, a fellow may decline such a berth.”

“That would be unfortunate,” said Lord Nishida.

“How many do you expect to die?” I asked.

“Some five hundred,” said Lord Nishida.

“What if some choose not to fight?” I asked.

“They are mercenaries,” said Lord Nishida. “They will cut their brother’s throat for a silver tarsk, so why not that of a stranger for a disk of gold?”

“And who,” I asked, “will preside over this slaughter?”

“Lord Okimoto, of course,” said Lord Nishida.

“He is a greater name, a greater daimyo, than you, I take it,” I said.

“He is cousin to the shogun,” said Lord Nishida.

“Dissuade him from this madness!” I urged.

“The selections,” said Lord Nishida, rising, “take place tomorrow.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

the selections

The sun was bright at the beach.

One could hear the cry of birds, the lapping of the Alexandra at the sand, and about the pilings of river wharves.

I was not bound, but was in theory in the keeping of two of Lord Okimoto’s Ashigaru. I had little doubt that I might have eluded them easily, would not two swift, unexpected blows have sufficed, but there were others about, many others. Lord Okimoto himself sat cross-legged, on a woven mat, on the platform behind me. At his right hand sat Lord Nishida. Pertinax, Tajima, Ichiro, and some others stood with me. All were unarmed, as I was. There were many Ashigaru and officers about, both of the commands of Lord Nishida, many of whom I recognized, and many others, I took it, of Lord Okimoto.

Matters had been explained by crier to hundreds of mercenaries. Many others, drovers, tarnsters, skilled artisans, and such, were not permitted on the beach. My men, of the cavalry, were not in evidence either. The place of killing was the beach, a corridor between the soft flow of the Alexandra and the platform, on which were found Lords Nishida and Okimoto, with its fronting and flanking, extended mass of armed observers, almost wholly Pani. Some mercenaries, I supposed, who did not die on the beach, would be forced back, wading, fighting, into the river, to die there and be washed downstream.

A blast was blown, this on a large conch trumpet.

This trumpet is called a horagai. It is sometimes used in Pani warfare as a battle horn, a signaling device to regulate the movements of troops. I had trained the cavalry, it might be recalled, to respond to the notes of such a device, a war horn. These, however, in the usual Gorean fashion, were formed of metal.

In response to this signal a long column of men, in rows of ten, mercenaries, armed and accoutered, came