Swordsmen of Gor

I recalled that Lord Nishida, after the attack, had said that his plans would be advanced.

Nodachi, I did not doubt, figured in these plans.

“It is growing dark,” said one of the Ashigaru. “Shall we enter the stable?”

I had little interest in risking men, and I had no way of knowing how many foes, if, indeed, any foes, were concealed in the stable. Too, I wished, to the extent possible, to protect Saru, assuming she was within. I doubted that she would be in danger, as she was a slave, any more than a verr or kaiila, but it is hard to anticipate the actions of frightened, desperate men. The situation would have been much different, of course, if she were a free woman. A free woman would constitute an excellent hostage. To be sure slaves, too, have their value. For example, they can be sold.

“No,” I said, loudly enough to be heard within the stable. “No one is within. We will return to the main camp.”

The men about looked at me, puzzled, and disappointed, some angrily, or reproachfully, but I waved them back, away from the stable. “No,” I said to Pertinax, who seemed on the brink of rushing through the threshold.

I did not suppose that any foe within would be so simple as to suppose we thought the stable empty, as no search had been made. I did hope that they would be cognizant of the dangers we would face in seeking them out, either in darkness or in the light of lamps or torches. Torches, in particular, would not be practical as a single torch, fallen into the straw, would result in the loss of the stable, and its housing for several tharlarion. A similar danger, of course, but one considerably less, would attend the use of lamps, whose flames were small, and whose effects might be more easily smothered or stamped out. To be sure, the lamps would cast less light, and the dangers, accordingly, to those who entered would be the greater. What I did hope was that the foes within, if any were there, would suppose that the attending commander, in this case myself, preferred discretion to a hazardous intrusion into darkness.

Once withdrawn I stationed my men about the stable, encircling it fully, lest any makeshift exit be attempted. I set archers in place, particularly in the vicinity of the entrance, and, in support, Ashigaru.

I put some men to the gathering of firewood.

I also sent several men to the training area, to storage sheds which were adjacent to several of the improvised tarn cots. I expected them to return within the Ahn.

Meanwhile darkness was almost upon us.

“I am going into the stable,” said Pertinax.

“Remain where you are,” I said.

“Miss Wentworth may be in danger,” he said.

“Saru,” I said, “a slave, in effect ‘Monkey’.”

“She may be in danger,” he said.

“She may be dead,” I said.

He regarded me, agonized.

“But it is unlikely,” I said, “as she is a meaningless beast.”

“I must know!” he said.

“You would risk your life for her?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“She must never know that,” I said. “She must think you despise her.”

“I do despise her,” he said. “But I desire her, as well.”

“She belongs to Lord Nishida,” I reminded him.

“I know,” he said.

It is interesting, I thought. The slave is nothing, no more than a purchasable beast, a mere animal to be ordered about, who must obey instantly and unquestioningly, and yet men will die for them. How is it that one would risk one’s life for a soft, sleek, curvaceous little beast, one at whose least indiscretion, lapse, or failure to please one would put unhesitantly to the whip. And the slave was not even his own.

“Wait,” I said.

“How long?” he asked.

“Perhaps until morning,” I said. “There will then be sufficient light, even within the stable.”

“If any are within,” he said, “they will attempt to flee before morning.”

“I think so,” I said. “That is my hope.”

“Your hope?”

“Certainly,” I said. “They are almost certain to be seriously outnumbered. Would you wait until morning?”

“No,” he said.

“Men have returned from the tarn cots,” said Tajima.

“Good,” I said. “Let them follow their instructions.”

Tajima nodded, and disappeared into the gloom, darkness now about.

In a few Ehn I gave a signal and, one by one, so that they would be immediately visible within the stable I had the lighting of six fires begun, lit at intervals of twenty Ihn, these fires to ring the threshold of the stable.

Such fires could be fed and tended until morning.

Shortly, even before the third fire was burning, there was movement within the stable as I had hoped and several foes, concealed within, realizing their danger, and the greater danger of morning, rushed outward, to slip away before the entire area might be illuminated.

At that point the roll of netting, some six feet in width, cut from the cordage used for the repair of the improvised tarn cots, was lifted upright from the ground and formed a wall impeding the fugitives.

In a moment the Ashigaru were upon them.

Heads were extracted from the cordage and tied to belts.

“They are dead, all of them,” said Pertinax.

“Some, less swift, some less valorous, some more fearful, some less frightened, some more circumspect, some more clever, may remain within,” I said.

Tajima joined Pertinax and myself.

“You took no heads,” I observed.

“I am Pani,” said Tajima, in English, “but not every custom of my people appeals to me.”

“In the Barrens,” I said, “they take scalps.”

“The Barrens?” he said.

The Barrens were east of the Thentis Mountains.

“Great, central plains,” I said.

“That does not appeal to me either,” said Tajima, again in English. “One knows what one has done. That is sufficient.”

“Nodachi?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “Nodachi.”

“It is a cultural thing,” I said.

“Doubtless,” said Tajima. “But culture should serve one, not be served by one.”

“I see,” I said.

“Vanity is pleasant,” said Tajima, “but it is dangerous, as well. While seeking and gathering trophies, while grasping at evanescent glories, while posing and preening, one may die.”

“Nodachi?” I asked.

“Tajima,” he smiled.

It was one of the few times I had seen him smile.

“Surely the fruits of victory are desirable,” I said.

“Victory is the fruit of victory,” said Tajima.

“Tajima?” I asked.

“No,” he said, smiling, “Nodachi.”

“Men desire fruits of victory other than victory herself,” I said. “They desire land, power, gold, ships, villas, cities, women, other valuables.”