Swordsmen of Gor

pleasures.”

Cecily and Jane, at the moment, with two sacks, had been set to gathering berries. When they returned they must put their heads back, open their mouths and extend their tongues. If there was any evidence of their having tasted a berry, either on their tongue or breath, they would be beaten. The berries were for the masters. Some could always be fed by hand to the slaves later, as they knelt at hand, naked, hands clasped behind their backs, or thrown before them to the floor, which they might then delicately retrieve, heads down, on all fours, without the use of their hands.

I had refrained hitherto from directly confronting either Lord Nishida or Lord Okimoto with the matter of the supposed hold over me, in virtue of some woman. Indeed, perhaps there was no such woman, and this menace or threat was a hoax, no more than an instrument of tactical efficacy, relying on my supplying in my own imagination some particular woman, with whose welfare I might be supposed to be concerned.

Now I would put the question to either Lord Nishida, or, if necessary, to Lord Okimoto.

If they wanted to retain my sword, at least as a willing instrument in their armory, then I would have an assuagement to my provoked curiosity.

With this resolution in mind I exited the shed which had been assigned for my quarters, quarters I shared, as before, with Pertinax, a free man, and two female slaves.

Chapter Thirty-Five

what occurred in the pavilion of lord okimoto

“Though you are a barbarian,” said Lord Nishida, “you are honored.”

“I am sensitive to the honor,” I said.

My sword had been kept at the entrance to the wooden pavilion, which was the largest building in the camp.

Lord Nishida and I were now in the vestibule of this building.

“It is sometimes difficult to understand Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida. “It has to do with a knife wound sustained in war.”

“I understand,” I said.

“I will try to be of assistance,” said Lord Nishida.

“Thank you,” I said.

“And I may speak more than he.”

“I understand,” I said.

“You will stand,” he said, “unless permitted to sit.”

“I understand,” I said.

I was then ushered into the presence of the large, inert shape of Lord Okimoto. He was resplendent, broad and leaden, now in a scarlet kimono, with a yellow obi, or belt. In this belt was the companion sword, blade uppermost. He sat cross-legged. There were four contract women in attendance, of unusual beauty, who withdrew, unobtrusively, as I entered. On each side of Lord Okimoto, somewhat behind, arms crossed, stood a guard.

“This is Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, commander of the tarn cavalry, victor at the battle of Tarncamp, of whom I have spoken,” said Lord Nishida.

Lord Okimoto nodded.

“May I speak?” I inquired.

Again Lord Okimoto nodded.

“The victor at Tarncamp,” I said, “was Tarncamp’s commander, your colleague, Lord Nishida. It was my honor to command his cavalry.”

Lord Okimoto smiled.

I thought he said something, for his lips moved.

“You may sit,” said Lord Nishida.

“Thank you,” I said. I gathered that this was meaningful.

“I have explained to Lord Okimoto,” said Lord Nishida, “your reservations pertaining to descending the Alexandra, the lateness of the season, the impending cold, the force of winter, the perils of the sea at this time.”

“He understands all this,” I said.

“Completely,” said Lord Nishida.

“You have then reconsidered your plans?” I asked.

Lord Okimoto smiled, a small smile, almost lost in the bloated mass of that vast countenance. It seemed he had small eyes. His raiment, of silk, stretched over that large body, was elegant.

“I see you have not reconsidered,” I said.

“No,” said Lord Nishida. “It is not practical.”

“Enemies, I gather, approach,” I said.

“Yes,” said Lord Nishida.

“They will move first to the mouth of the Alexandra,” I said, “to cut you off, and then proceed upriver.”

“That is our surmise,” said Lord Nishida.

That was certainly what I would have done.

“How close are they?” I asked.

“Perhaps you know,” smiled Lord Nishida.

“How would I know?” I asked.

“They are too close,” said Lord Nishida. “And they hasten their marches.”

“How many days?” I asked.

“Some,” said Lord Nishida.

“Break camp, and flee,” I urged.

“It is not our way,” said Lord Nishida.

“Your defeat is assured,” I said, “either by sword or sea.”

“Yet few,” said Lord Nishida, “have ventured to depart.”

“They do not understand their situation,” I said.

“Perhaps,” said Lord Nishida.

“What of those few,” I asked, “who, as you put it, ‘ventured to depart’?”

“Desertion is not acceptable,” said Lord Nishida.

“I see,” I said.

Outside I heard the wind. It was coming from the north.

“There is still time,” I said, “to break camp, to withdraw.”

“Do you understand us, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman?” asked Lord Nishida.

“I do not think so,” I said.

“How do you see us?” he asked.

“As implacable, relentless, cruel, single-minded, uncompromising, merciless,” I said.

“And so, too,” said Lord Nishida, “is the enemy. It is a war, knife to knife, a war without quarter.”

“Not here?” I said.

“No, not here,” he said.

“Flee,” I said.

“It is not our way,” he said.

“It is a war you have already lost,” I said.

“We did not have tarns,” he said.

“I think you are mad,” I said.

“We are going back,” he said.

“I did not request this audience,” I said, “to apprise you of the hopeless nature of your situation, for that is