Mariners of Gor

“Who but you,” he asked, “would protect me?”

“Cabot would,” I said. “Tarl Cabot.” I thought of him as perhaps as great a fool as I.

“Is he here?”

“I do not know where he is,” I said.

“Protect me,” he said.

“Seek another,” I said.

“We are of the same ship,” he said.

I cried out in rage.

“The same ship,” he smiled.

“Give me your arm,” I said.

As he lurched toward me, he brushed against me.

“You are armed,” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

We then addressed ourselves to the trail, in the light rain.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I Introduce Two Slaves to One Another

I had inquired the name of several slaves, now and then, casually, over the past few days, but was particularly interested in one name, that of one slave. Obviously I did not wish to signal her out, suggesting that she might be of special interest. Slaves, of course, as other animals, are named as masters may please. The name given to the slave was Adraste.

“It was you, in Ar, who threw me the rag of a slave!” hissed Adraste.

I had taken Alcinoe by the hair, bent her over, and thrust her into the same small kennel with Adraste, and had then swung shut the gate, it locking with its closure. In this way, the two former highest, richest women in Ar, both traitresses, both muchly involved in the Great Treason, both wanted in Ar, both now slaves, were forced to confront one another, in their current humiliation, shame, and degradation.

The thrice-walled grounds of the castle of Lord Temmu, all in all, must have occupied more than a full square pasang, extending broadly over a wide plateau, which, on one side, fell straight to the sea, and was accessible otherwise, as from the cove, by steep trails, one of which was walled, that from the wharf. The trails were narrow, fortified, and might be economically defended. An ascent otherwise, given the steepness of the plateau, almost vertical, accentuated by the work of Lord Temmu’s military engineers, would have been not only difficult but extremely hazardous. A small group of skilled climbers, approaching at night, might have reached the foot of the walls, but it seemed that an ascent of the plateau by any large group, certainly undetected, would have been unlikely. Three additional precautions tended to militate against a practical ascent of the plateau, one of which was quite new to me. Comprehensible enough was the precaution of symmetrically placed, projecting guard stations built into the side of the plateau, each manned by two ashigaru. From each station arrow fire might rake the side of the plateau. No point on the plateau was not accessible to fire from two directions. Each station, too, was equipped with a drum, by means of which signals could be conveyed. A second precaution, sensibly enough, was the nightly illumination of the plateau, though dimly, by lanterns. A lantern which ceased burning would be noted and investigated. The most interesting precaution, at least to me, was the provision of nesting sites on the almost vertical slopes for the Uru, which is a small, winged, vartlike mammal. This mammal, which usually preys on insects and small urts, like several species of birds, is communally territorial. When disturbed, it shrieks its warning and it is soon joined by a clamoring swarm of its fellows. In this way, a natural alarm system is obtained. Moreover, if a nesting site is closely approached, the Uru is likely to attack the intruder. It is a small mammal, but, shrieking and flying at the face of a climber, one precariously clinging to an almost vertical surface, it is, I am told, at least in such a situation, something most unpleasant to encounter. In any event, the holding of Lord Temmu, if not impregnable, was redoubtable. It remained, at least until now, despite the woes of the war, secure and inviolable, one stubborn, mighty, obdurate impediment to the designs of Lord Yamada, shogun, as it was said, at least by his minions, of the Twelve Islands.

It was now the second day of the Sixth Passage Hand, three days before the autumnal equinox.

Pani continued to guard the great ship.

Training was extensive and exhausting.

I did not know when we would march.

I saw little of Cabot, but, from time to time, he appeared at the castle, arriving at night on tarnback, presumably to consult with the shogun, Temmu, and Lords Okimoto and Nishida. I gathered things proceeded apace with the tarn cavalry, surely so if they were as deep in training as we were.

I myself had never seen Lord Temmu.

I gathered this was not that unusual, given that he was a shogun.

We had seen nothing of the fleet of Lord Yamada. Were we in the vicinity of the continent, where the climate was less mild, I might have supposed the fleet had retired to its base, or port, for the fall and winter. Here, one did not know. It might, of course, have returned to port. One did not know. I did learn, interestingly, that Lord Temmu had possessed at one time a navy, but that it had been substantially driven from the sea. He had been, it seemed, no more successful at sea than on the land. To be sure, it had been a small thing, compared with the ships at the disposal of Lord Yamada. It consisted now, I had learned, of only three ships. They were much, presumably, like the ships of the Vine Sea, with their battened sails and high stem castles. One of these ships, to my great interest, had put in at the wharf a week ago, for water and supplies, and then, a day later, set out to sea again. I had learned much of these matters from some of the lower Pani after the wharfing of the ship, who, once they had overcome their diffidence, seemed pleased to speak with me, one who would speak with them, pleasantly, bow to them, show them respect, and such. They became silent when one of the higher Pani might approach.

Four days ago there had been much stirring, much agitation, amongst the men. Tersites, who, as Aetius, his fellow, had never left the ship, had had eyes painted on its bow. In the morning, they were there, large, bright, patient, calm, stately. It was as though the wood had sprung to life. This produced alarm amongst the men, for it suggested the possibility that the ship might depart. Why else would eyes, after all this time, be given to the great ship? The anxiety of the men was somewhat assuaged when it was made clear to them that the Pani who guarded the ship were not mariners, and that the small number of officers and mariners who came and went upon her, from time to time, would not be enough to bring her to sea. I myself suspected that Tersites had at last given eyes to the ship because he was terrified for her, and hoped that she might now, moored at the wharf, be able to see her danger, danger more from men than the sea.

As long as the ship was there I knew that our men would see it as a symbol of the far world they knew, and remembered, would see it longingly, would see it jealously, would see it as their only likely passage home. Was their treasure not aboard? What had they to hope for here, other than uncertainty, danger, and possible death?

I sensed there was much secret speaking amongst the men.

The Pani, of course, would be well aware of this.

No wonder Tersites gave eyes to the great ship.

The slaves were muchly sequestered, in kennels here and there, these kept in sheds, within the compound, away from the frequent rains.

There were free Pani women in the castle, perhaps companions of officers, and several contract women. These women, demure in their kimonos, their tiny hands in their sleeves, would sometime, in their short, careful steps, visit the kenneled slaves. They looked upon them much as one would look on caged verr. Sometimes they spoke softly amongst themselves, laughed, and turned away.

Of what interest might such caged beasts be to anyone?

But men looked upon them and saw them differently, in terms of the uses of slaves.

There were fewer slaves now, as some fifty had been taken from the castle’s grounds. Whereas certain things remained obscure to me, several of the lower Pani, who served in the castle, spoke to other Pani, and some