Swordsmen of Gor

“No,” I said.

The men who had fired the camp, and some stragglers, were now hurrying down the wharf, to board.

“Is Lord Nishida aboard?” asked Pertinax.

“I do not think so,” I said.

“What of his contract women?” asked Pertinax.

“I do not know,” I said.

Again we heard the whistles from the stern castle.

“Should we not board?” asked Pertinax.

“Shortly,” I said.

“The wharf itself may soon be afire,” said Pertinax.

“Yes,” I said.

I could see some mariners, far above, at the railing of the stern castle, reading the flames and their progress.

“The ship may be in danger,” he said.

“Eventually,” I said, “not now.”

To be sure, I expected that mooring ropes would be soon cast off, and the great ship, obedient to rudder and current, would edge into the river.

Aetius, I was sure, was anxious to depart.

“Perhaps we should board,” said Pertinax.

“I would be curious to see the last to board,” I said.

“Where is Lord Nishida?” asked Pertinax.

“He may be dead,” I said.

“You jest,” he said, uneasily.

“I think it unlikely,” I said. I did not, of course, rule it out. There might be, I thought, frictions or dissensions amongst the Pani. Surely they were human, and not unaware of the attractions of power. Perhaps Lord Nishida had served his purpose, supplying lumber to the shipwrights at the Alexandra camp, arranging for the formation and training of a tarn cavalry, and such. Perhaps he was no longer required by Lord Okimoto, who was, it seemed, a cousin to the shogun, some shogun.

“They are going to raise the ramp,” said Pertinax.

“Not yet, surely,” I said.

The great frame in which the ship of Tersites had been formed was now muchly ablaze. A timber collapsed with a crash.

“I fear for the wharf,” said Pertinax. “The ship must cast off.”

In the river some ice drifted downstream.

I estimated that there must be some twenty-five hundred to three thousand men on board.

Many lined the rails, far above.

Enormous quantities of foodstuffs had been brought on board. This had caused me considerable uneasiness. So might a city have been supplied, anticipating its beleaguering. And who might the foe be, if not the sea? How long was this voyage to be? Such stores would suffice to carry one beyond Cos and Tyros, and beyond these, the farthest of the western islands. But I feared they might be but little used. I feared, rather, given the coming of winter and its season of storms, that the walls of this city, so to speak, would be shortly breached, that they would be unable to resist the raging blows of green Thassa, the blows of her towering, mountainous hammers, that the city must soon fall, succumbing to the implacable, voluminous ingression of cold waters. One does not venture upon Thassa in this season.

“You do intend to board, do you not?” asked Pertinax.

“Certainly,” I said.

“The fire encroaches,” said Pertinax, uneasily.

“There is time,” I said.

“Look,” said Pertinax, “across the river.”

We could see a longboat putting away from the shore, on the opposite bank.

“Enemies?” asked Pertinax.

“Unlikely,” I said.

“The camp is on the northern bank,” said Pertinax. “The boat departs from the southern shore.”

“Something, then,” I said, “was housed there.”

“What?” he said.

“I do not know,” I said.

We saw the oars dipping, water falling from the blades.

There were numerous small cabins for officers on the great ship. Pertinax and I each had our cabin. Doubtless much ampler quarters were provided for Lords Nishida and Okimoto, and those ranking high amongst the Pani, probably in the stern castle. I did not object to the tiny quarters. In a sense they were a luxury, inside, sheltered from the weather. In many Gorean ships, shallow-drafted galleys, with which I was familiar, and on which I had sailed, there was not much in the way of cabins at all, though there might be a hold in which one might place stores, chain slaves, and such. Officers and crew often slept on the deck, under the stars, or at the side of the ship, on land, if it were beached at night. The holds were not pleasant. Slaves often petitioned, most piteously, to be permitted on deck, though it be but to be chained to a stanchion, or caged.

To an outsider, one unfamiliar with such things, I suppose that our cabins would have seemed miserably tiny and cramped, but space is usually precious on a ship, even a large ship. And to me, if not to Pertinax, as I suggested, it was something of a luxury to have a cabin, at all. I was well pleased. There was a single berth in the low-ceilinged cabin, on the left, as one entered. This berth was built into the wall. Beneath the berth, also built into the wall, was a locker, which was the primary storage facility. Across from the berth was a cabinet for small articles. The only furniture, so to speak, in the cabin was a small bench, some three feet in length. There were also, here and there, hooks in the ceiling, from which paraphernalia might be suspended. A small, glass-enclosed tharlarion-oil lamp was hung from the ceiling, at the center of the cabin. It could not be removed from its chain. Fire at sea, particularly in wooden ships, is a hazard which must be taken with the utmost seriousness. Most welcome was a tiny port, some four inches in diameter, with its hinged window, opposite the door. By means of this aperture, one could look outside, and, the port opened, ventilate the cabin. Closed, the window was proof against cold and high seas. From a distance, given their tininess, these ports, if noticed at all, would seem little more than dots in the hull. The door was small and narrow, and would swing inward from the adjacent companionway. In this way, if opened, it would not obstruct the companionway. I could not stand fully upright in the cabin, but one does not intend to spend much time there. Both Cecily and Jane could stand upright in the cabin, with room to spare. I hoped they understood the luxury of their quarters. It was far superior to the pens, kennels, cages, chaining rings, and such, which were the lot of several of their collar-sisters. To be sure, even such accommodations were likely to be far superior to those afforded on typical slave ships, in which the slaves were often supine and tiered, chained, wrists over head, ankles together, on pallets of slatted wood, enclosed by mesh, to keep away the urts. All the hair on their bodies is removed, to reduce the infestation of parasites. The chaining arrangement, incidentally, is not only to keep the girls from tearing the mesh, which might allow the entry of urts into the space, but, also, to keep them from lacerating their own bodies, tearing at them to relieve the misery consequent upon the depredations of parasites, usually ship lice. Racks of these tiers stretch substantially from wall to wall in the hold, with only a tiny walk space between and about them. A panel in each space opens, by means of which a crust of bread may be placed in the mouth of each slave. Similarly, they are watered, by means of a bota or hose.

The approaching boat was now midriver.

It had eight oarsmen, and a fellow at the tiller, and another at the bow. Its cargo, between the gunwales, was covered by a tarpaulin.

I looked to Cecily and Jane, kneeling on the planks, beside us.

“You know your cabins?” I asked.

“Yes, Master,” said each.

Two days ago we had taken them on board, to show them our cabins, and, in general, familiarize them with the ship. In this tour we had tied their hands behind their backs and then tied them together by the neck. From a custodial point of view this was unnecessary, of course, but such things are seldom done for custodial purposes.