kneel.
She then looked up. “Perhaps,” she said, “a free man may conduct a slave to her kennel.”
“It will be so,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I heard the drums, and emerged from the barracks.
It was early morning.
“The exploratory force returns,” I heard, “in glorious triumph!”
I had heard nothing of them in the vicinity. Thus, I supposed they had marched all night.
“Let us see the trophies, and women!” cried a fellow, hurrying toward one of the plateau gates, surmounting a trail south of the castle grounds, that eventually abutting on the road leading to the largest of the three local villages.
I climbed the stairs to the parapet of the interior wall, of the three walls, which was the highest wall.
I had no glass of the Builders but one could make out the thatched roofs in the distance.
There were two Pani on the parapet.
There was a darkness on the road, in the distance.
“What is going on?” I asked the Pani.
One was shading his eyes.
“Tal,” said the other, politely. They did not respond otherwise.
The courtyard below was beginning to be crowded, as men, our armsmen, and Pani, even some free women, or contract women, emerged from their respective housings.
Looking across the courtyard, I saw a vulo exit the castle. It seemed to circle, for a time, and then flew north, and west, toward the mountains.
Turgus and Tyrtaios both now joined me on the parapet, Turgus, liaison to Lord Nishida, Tyrtaios to Lord Okimoto. Each bore a glass of the Builders.
Tyrtaios spoke neither to me nor to the Pani, but scanned the trail, the road, the village, the horizon, quickly, expertly. Then, in a moment, he had descended from the parapet, striding toward the castle. Turgus, too, put the glass to use, but more thoughtfully. Then he lowered it.
“The exploratory force returns?” I said.
“Yes,” he said, and handed me the glass.
I looked down the trail. A column was indeed approaching. Before it were carried the narrow, vertical banners of Lord Temmu.
The order of march seemed ragged.
The column, as a whole, I conjectured, is separated from this column, a shorter column, on the trail, which must be the vanguard.
I turned the glass on the village, and its road. The thatched roofs swirled into focus, and the darkness on the road resolved itself into tiny figures, and several hand-drawn carts. Among these figures I made out what seemed to be a coffle, of some eight or ten figures, being moved northwest, toward the mountains.
I looked to Turgus.
“The village,” he said, “is being abandoned.”
Thetis and Iole had been returned to the castle grounds four days ago, following their disciplinary interlude in the slave hut. It was said their service was now humble, and zealous. It was also noted that now, before Pani warriors, they did not kneel, but prostrated themselves, putting themselves instantly, trembling, to second obeisance position, prone, hands to the sides of their head, eyes to the ground.
I returned the glass to Turgus.
He did not seem eager to report to Lord Nishida.
I suspected that Lord Nishida, perhaps from messages conveyed by vulos, had already sufficient reports in hand.
Down in the courtyard, now, in addition to the drums, there were soundings on the Pani’s conch horns.
I made my way down to the courtyard, to welcome the returning troops, or, I trusted, the vanguard.
The plateau gate, the trail of which led most directly to the largest of the villages below, was swung open. I could then see, beyond it, the other two gates, already opened. I could see the tops of banners, approaching, up the trail, then helmets, then men. Blasts were blown on the conch horns. Drums rolled bravely. We in the courtyard moved to the sides, to clear a passage for the column.
None of the high Pani came to greet the column.
Several men began to cheer, but were then quiet.
The drums were silent; so too, the conch horns, or trumpets.
“Where are the trophies?” asked a man.
“Where are the women?” asked another.
The column, preceded by its bannermen, in rows of four, entered the courtyard.
The marchers were weary.
Given the Ahn, I feared they had marched all night.
They were drawn, and haggard, perhaps thirsting, perhaps hungry. Some men staggered, and some limped. Some men were aided by others. We saw some borne on litters. Many were in soiled, rent garments. Some wore bandages. A number were bloodied.
“How far behind is the column?” I inquired of a marcher.
He looked at me, vacantly, not responding.
Beside me now were Philoctetes, Aeacus, and Tereus.
“How far behind is the column?” I asked a second fellow.
“This is the column,” he said, not looking at me.
“No speaking!” warned a Pani warrior, within, directing the bannermen, and their attendant troops, to follow him, away from the castle.
Turgus now joined me, come down from the parapet.
“There were a hundred Pani,” I said. “I see almost none.”
“Gone,” said Turgus.
“There were four hundred armsmen,” I said. “I do not think more than a hundred returned.”
“The force, obviously,” said Turgus, “was cut to pieces.”
“I saw no Pani officers,” I said.
“Probably most died in battle,” said Turgus. “Others, I suspect, would not return and face Lord Temmu.”
“They fled?” I said.
“That is not likely,” said Turgus.
“Captured?” I said.
“I do not think so,” said Turgus.
“What then?” I asked.
“It has to do with honor,” he said.
“It is no disgrace to be defeated in battle,” I said, “if one is outfought, if one has done one’s best.”
“I agree,” he said.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“We are not Pani,” he said.
The first gate was then shut, and then the second, and then that near us.
“I do not think we will soon march,” said Philoctetes.
“The village below,” I said, “has been abandoned.”
“It is likely to be burned,” said Aeacus.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
