The officer of the court lifted one foot, and then the other, from the heated floor.
The salesgirl wept with pain, wringing her hands.
“What are we to do?” wept the officer of the court.
“That has been decided for us, has it not!” cried the salesgirl.
“What choice have we?” wept the officer of the court.
“The only choice they have accorded us!” wept the salesgirl. “A slave’s choice!”
“Ohh,” wept the officer of the court, crying, gasping for breath in the heated vehicle.
Then she heard the salesgirl struggling with the hatch wheel.
“Me first! Me first!” cried the officer of the court, thrusting the salesgirl aside. The hatch wheel burned her hand. Then she thrust it up. Her hands were burned on the rungs of the hatch ladder.
The outside of the capsule had begun to glow redly.
The officer of the court burst from the hatch, crying, and gasping for air. She felt herself seized in strong hands, on each side, and flung to the dirt on her belly beside the roaring fire heating the capsule. She turned her face away from the blaze. She felt her hands pulled behind her and tied there, securely. She was aware, too, of a similar fate befalling the salesgirl, who had followed her from the capsule a moment later. She was still gasping for breath, shuddering, on her belly, trying to pull her hands apart, when she felt a rope being tied about her neck. She turned about and saw that the salesgirl was bound, too, just as she herself was, and that she, too, now, had a rope on her neck.
CHAPTER 18
“What irons are these?” inquired Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs.
“My chieftain knows, surely,” said Astubux.
“They are slaving irons,” said Otto.
“Yes.”
“But surely not made by our smiths,” said Otto.
“No,” said Astubux. “These are irons formed on other worlds, civilized worlds. They are such as are used by the Drisriaks to mark women for sale throughout the galaxies.”
“The flower,” said Otto.
“Yes, Master,” said his slave, Janina. Her own thigh bore a not dissimilar brand.
The chieftain considered the irons.
They would leave behind a small, tasteful mark, but one which would be clear and unmistakable.
“The slave rose,” said Otto, the chieftain. This seems, incidentally, the first time, then in the village of the Wolfungs, that he was known by this name. It may be surmised that he chose it for himself before being lifted on the shields. The name, incidentally, was a common one in the Vandal nation, even at that time. Research has made that clear. It is not as though it only became so later. It is also interesting, in the light of historical studies, that he chose that particular name. It was one which had been borne generations earlier by Otung kings.
“Yes, Master,” said Janina, putting her head down.
“How came they here?” asked Otto.
“They were left by the Drisriaks, to remind us of their power,” said Axel, who was the older, grizzled Wolfung warrior who had been with the hunting party which had first made contact with a marooned gladiator and slave.
“When they come for tribute,” said Astubux, “they pick out what goods they want, including women. Then they brand them before our very eyes.”
“They should be here soon?” said the chieftain. The sign had been burned into the forest two days ago.
“I would say three or four days,” said Axel.
“They wish to give us time to gather together the tribute,” said Astubux.
“Twice we have fled, but they have always found us.”
“We flee no more,” said the chieftain.
“They are not pleased when we hide,” said Axel. “They kill off men and take twice the tribute.”
“We hide no more,” said the chieftain.
“It was from the first vengeance that they denied us chieftains,” said Astubux.
“You now have a chieftain,” said Otto.
“I fear your tenure as chieftain will be brief,” said Astubux.
“It is I who will face them, who will bear the brunt of their wrath,” said Otto.
“Let us fly, Master,” urged Janina.
“I am chieftain,” said Otto.
“They need never know we were here!” said Janina.
“Do you wish to be tied at the whipping post?” asked the chieftain.
“No, Master!” said Janina.
Quickly she withdrew to one side, and knelt, and put her head down.
“You have a plan?” asked Astubux.
“Yes,” said the chieftain.
“And if it fails?”
“I fear then, good Astubux,” said Otto, “you will once more be without a chieftain.”
“No!” said Astubux.
“Things then, good Astubux,” said Otto, “will be much the same for you as they were before, no better, no worse.”
“But we would have no chieftain!” said Astubux.
“As before!” laughed Otto.
“We will follow you, all of us, into the forest,” said Axel. “Let us hide again.”
“We have hidden long enough,” said the chieftain. “One day the Wolfungs must come from their forest.” Then he went to the door of the hut, and looked out, over the palisade, toward the trees beyond, and the horizon, and the sky. “Let the Wolfungs be the first,” said he.
“What means my chieftain?” asked Astubux.
“Nothing,” said Otto. He regarded the sky, moodily.
“Who knows,” said Axel, “what strands the sisters of destiny have woven into the rope of fate.”
“Last night,” said Otto, “the skald sang not only of the Wolfungs, but of the Darisi, the Haakons, the Basungs, the Otungs.”
“The people, the nation,” said Astubux.
“You think long thoughts,” said Axel.
“Has it not been demeaned, and scattered and persecuted long enough?” asked Otto.
“Yes,” said Axel.
“Is it not among the fiercest of warrior nations?”
“It is the fiercest, and most terrible,” said Axel.
“It once was,” said Astubux.
“And has your blood grown thin and cold?” asked Otto.
“Spears,” said Astubux, “are no match for fire from the stars.”
“Unless we, too, can stand among stars, and grasp that fire,” said Otto.
“You have long thoughts,” said Axel.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“Is there a way?” asked Axel.
“Yes,” said Otto.
“I fear the chieftain is mad,” said Astubux.
Otto turned about and lifted Astubux toward the roof of the hut, and laughed. “Yes,” said he, “your chieftain is mad! Come, share his madness, and die a man!”
“Better than to live as a
