Mariners of Gor

“Rask of Treve did so,” I said, “and the Panther Girls of the northern forests.”

“No, no!” she wept.

I reached through the bars and drew her by the hair, tightly against the bars. “Remember the penalty for lying,” I said.

“Yes, Master,” she wept.

“You are no longer a free woman,” I said.

“No, Master,” she wept.

“Did they not?” I said.

Tears streamed down her face, some running on the bars. “Yes, Master,” she said, “they taught me my collar.”

“And well?”

“Yes, Master, very well!”

“You learned it?” I said.

“I was given no choice,” she said. “I learned it well.”

“And doubtless,” I said, “you can learn it well, again, or better.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

I then released her, and she drew back in the kennel, bent over, in its darkness, weeping.

Some free women think that they can never be taught the collar, but, when it is on them, they learn differently, and swiftly.

Chapter Twenty-Six

What Occurred in the Courtyard of the Castle of Lord Temmu

It had been a good cast, from twenty yards, the javelin into the heavy post set in the courtyard.

“Well done, Philoctetes,” I said.

There was general assent from the fellows about.

To one side Pani archers, with their large, unusual bows, were plying shafts into silk-covered straw targets.

I would not have cared to meet such fellows in the field.

“When will we march?” inquired Philoctetes.

“We must wait,” I said.

A robust exploratory force of some five hundred men, a hundred Pani warriors of the men of Lord Temmu, and four hundred of our mercenaries, our armsmen, had been sent forth eight days ago.

Behind us we heard the striking of sharpened steel. Obviously one does the best to control the blade, but, even so, blood can be shed in such exercises.

“Many of the enemy, it is said,” said a fellow, “are low Pani, impressed into service. The blast of a war horn should send them running back to their fields.”

“Our fellows will harvest them like Sa-Tarna, split them like tospits, crush them like dried larmas,” said another.

“Our fellows were well met at the defile, and on the beach,” said a man, thoughtfully.

“We were taken by surprise, ambushed,” said a man. “We were not ready.”

“Those were prize troops,” said a fellow, “gathered, and set.”

“We stood up to them well enough at the evacuation,” said another.

“Consider how heavily we were outnumbered,” said another.

I was pleased to some extent, of course, that the morale of our armsmen seemed high. On the other hand, as far as I could tell, there was a serious likelihood that we might be seriously outnumbered in any pitched battle. The ideal, of course, is to engage the enemy only when it is to one’s advantage, not to his advantage. Small units are likely to overcome smaller units. Thus, a smaller army, rapid and evasive, judiciously disposed and applied, may, in time, in a hundred actions, a hundred skirmishes, inflict much damage on a larger army, if its elements can be met seriatim, and divided. Statistically, two men are likely to vanquish a single man, one engaging, one killing, with the result that there is not likely to be one survivor, one of the two men, but rather two of the two men, the two who held the numerical advantage, slender though it might have seemed.

“Our fellows should be soon back, with trophies,” said a man.

“And perhaps women,” said another.

“They will be Pani women,” said a man.

“What matter?” said another.

“How are they?” asked another.

“In the village,” said another, “go to the slave hut.”

I had no idea of how effective lower Pani, mostly peasants, impressed or enlisted as ashigaru, might be, as it was not their way of life, so to speak, as it seemed to be for higher Pani, such as the warriors of Lord Temmu, and Lords Nishida and Okimoto, but I was sure they could be trained, might be terrified not to fight, and, in any event, might be present in large numbers. And, of course, they would be stiffened by, and supplemented by, higher Pani, the sort who had, it seems, though doubtless in greater numbers, previously reduced and decimated the men of Lords Nishida and Okimoto, warriors for whom I entertained the highest regard.

In any event, I feared our fellows might underestimate the enemy. It is always preferable to anticipate the larl and meet the urt, than expect the urt and meet the larl.

Several men, in their turn, freed of duty for the day, had issued from the courtyard, down various trails, to the local villages. I myself, in recent days, had visited two such villages. During the day, of late, the gates of the castle had been open. Lesser Pani were mostly barred entry, but higher Pani, and we, during the day, if not on duty, came and went rather as we wished. At night, the gates were closed, and access, and exit, it seemed, was carefully supervised. Probably secret signals were employed. The Pani, I had discovered on the ship, were familiar with such devices, and, as I later learned, with ciphers and codes, as well. When the men chose to leave the castle, they were given marked shells, rather like ostraka. These could be exchanged for things in the villages, fish, rice, sake, a fermented drink made from rice, and such, and, in the stalls, beads, cloth, trinkets, and such. These shells were not typical Pani currency, which, for the most part, consisted of metal coins, of silver, gold, and copper, of various certified weights, struck by various shoguns. As on the continent there is no common currency, but a variety of currencies, which often entails rumors, scales, bargainings, and such. Many of these coins, not all, were perforated in the center. One threads one or more such coins on a string, the string fastened about the bottom and top coin, or loops a string through several coins, and ties the loop shut above the top coin. In this way the coins are kept together, perhaps tied about one’s waist, under the clothing, or put about one’s neck, under the clothing, or simply dropped into a pouch, usually of silk. Lesser Pani sometimes, on errands, carry the coin or coins in the mouth, rather as slaves may on the continent, and on the islands, while marketing for their masters. The marked shells, then, I gathered, were rather in the nature of a form of script. I also gathered that if the villagers did not accept them they risked the loss of an eye, a hand, a foot, or a head. As long as they were unquestioningly exchanged, of course, at least in the local villages, the nature of the material made little difference. The marking on the shells, in part done in dots, presumably for our benefit, stipulated the value to be assigned to the shell. One bargained, of course, with such things, much as one might with pieces of metal, or, in the Barrens, with beads, strips of leather, furs, blankets, arrowheads, bowstrings, slaves, and such. In one village there was a slave hut, as alluded to, popular with the men, whose occupants I looked in on, but did not put to use. Their use cost a two-dot shell. The girls in the hut were not contract women but slaves, as the Pani keep slaves, as well as others, as is common in refined, advanced civilizations. The hut was lit by hanging lamps, and floored by a large, colorful mat, presumably to enhance the pleasure of the clients, for the Pani, at least the high Pani, refined, and civilized, tend to be quite open to the pleasures of the senses, such as color, textures, scents, and such. The girls, too, were given lovely silken sheets, which they might hold about themselves. Naturally they kneel humbly before the men, for they are not only females,