Swordsmen of Gor (71 page)

Soon, I supposed, the eyes of the great ship would be painted.

She was to ply the Alexandra.

Should she reach Thassa, the sea, I supposed, would be gifted with wine and salt, and oil would be poured into the waters, that they might be soothed in her path. Such things are traditional.

Six days ago a great pyre had been lit on the beach, and I had stood beside it, with Aëtius, and dozens of others, amongst them carpenters, sawyers, oar makers, and sail makers.

We stood yards back. The flames burned fiercely. Though it was night, one could scarcely look upon them. One could see them reflected redly on the countenances of the stolid, or grieving, men gathered about. Tears streamed from the eyes of some of them, hardened men, yet weeping. Pani, too, were with us, and a number of mariners, and mercenaries. The wrapped form in the canvas, sail canvas, was consumed in a torrent of flame.

It was odd, I thought, that the pyre had been lit at night. Such things are usually done in the afternoon.

“He would have liked to have seen the eyes painted,” said a man.

I supposed that this was true.

But Tersites, I knew, was a strange man.

“It was not to be,” said another.

“I would have liked to have seen him,” I said to Aëtius.

Aëtius did not look at me. “He was not well,” he said.

“What,” I asked, “was the cause of his death?”

“His health was poor, and for a long time failing,” said Aëtius.

I recalled him from years ago, at the Council of Captains. It was hard to think of that small, twisted, wiry, energetic body, the unlikely frame of so mighty and unusual a mind, belabored and weakened, succumbing to the ravages of illness. I had sought out the physicians, those of the green caste, in camp. None had been summoned. Four had been refused admittance to his presence.

“There will never be another such as he,” said Aëtius.

“Doubtless,” I said.

Aëtius regarded me, narrowly, and then looked away.

We waited until the flames had muchly subsided, and then returned to our quarters.

The next morning, at dawn, I returned to the remains of the pyre, the blackened wood, the mounds of ash.

I was not surprised to find that Aëtius had done the same.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not pleasantly.

“Sometimes,” I said, brushing through the ash with the side of my foot, “there is a bone or two.”

“Go away,” said Aëtius.

“I see you have found some,” I said. He carried, in his left hand, a small sack.

“Come no closer,” said Aëtius.

I took his left hand at the wrist, and pulled the sack toward me.

“Away!” said Aëtius. “Stop!”

With my right hand I emptied the bones into the ash. I bent down, as Aëtius stood by, helpless. I sorted through the bones. I lifted one or two of them up, to show them to Aëtius.

“Now you know,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

“You suspected,” he said.

“Yes,” I said.

I then stood up.

He bent down, angrily, to gather the bones together, which he hastily returned to the sack.

I had little doubt but what they would be quickly disposed of, probably buried in the forest, without a marker.

“Your secret,” I said, “is safe with me.”

“It was thought necessary,” he said, not looking up.

“Why, by whom?” I asked.

“I do not know,” he said.

“Where is Tersites?” I asked.

“I do not know,” he said. “I do what I am told.”

“Clearly he is alive,” I said.

“I think so,” he said.

I had suspected some form of subterfuge, or hoax, from the apparent absence or inaccessibility of Tersites, from my inquiries amongst those of the green caste, and from the igniting of the vast pyre after dark.

Perhaps he had been in fear of his life.

Doubtless he would now be safe, for a time.

I then turned away.

The bones were tarsk bones.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

THE SHIP IS TO SAIL

Strangely, this unsettling me, and many others, the eyes of the great ship had not been painted.

Yet it seemed she was to ply the Alexandra, and, if all went well, reach Thassa.

Should she reach Thassa, the sea, I trusted, would be gifted with wine and salt, and oil would be poured into the waters, that they might be soothed in her path.

I would prefer that these things had been done before she would sail.

I was uneasy.

I knew little of many things.

Tersites, I knew, was a strange man.

Orders must have been given.

Aëtius, I was sure, would respect such orders, had they been delivered to him by his master, and mentor, lame, brilliant, twisted, half-mad Tersites.

I knew little of many things.

I did know that Tersites was a strange man.

Ice had crusted about the cold shore. Pieces, some large, were seen in the river, from upstream.

I drew my cloak more closely about me.

The slaves were now warmly garmented, though not, of course, as might have been free women. The robes of concealment in winter are much like those of gentler weathers, save for darker colors, more absorptive of, and retentive of, heat, heavier materials, some additional layering, and such. In the case of the slave a short, long-sleeved jacket, coming high on the hips, its length resembling that of a slave tunic, is worn over an undershirt. They are also put in trousers, belted with binding fiber. Whereas in the case of the free woman her legs are concealed within her enclosing garmenture, in the case of the slave, even in the winter, it is clear, however warmly they may be clothed, that she has legs, and that this is to be obvious to the scrutiny of men. The wrappings of the legs and calves is wool, over which leather is wrapped. The last garment is a warm, hooded cloak, which may be held closely about the body. Her face is commonly bared, except in severe weather, and, in any case, there is no mistaking her status, given her garmenture. Too, there were no free women in camp. Incidentally, there is a superstition amongst many Gorean mariners that it is bad luck to have a free woman aboard. The foundation of the superstition, I suppose, is not difficult to discern, even if the woman, in such a situation, resists to the best of her ability the manifestations of the lovely temptations natural to her sex. If the meat is not to be eaten, it is a mistake to put it before larls. They may fight amongst themselves, and such. Perhaps larls should not be carnivorous, and should never be hungry, but they are carnivorous, and do get hungry. If there are any objections here, they are best taken up not with larls, but with nature, the disposition to replicate genes, and such, without which there would be no meat and no larls. This superstition, incidentally, does not apply to slave girls, for they are such that, even if one does not get one’s hands on them, one knows they are such that, as the properties of men, they are at least in theory available, and this, interestingly, is often enough to content the male. Too, one may always look at them, tease them, flirt with them, slap them on the fundament, order them about, get them to their knees before you, as you wish, be addressed by them as “Master,” and so on. There are many ways to enjoy a woman without putting her to your pleasure. That is, after all, for her master.

Their collars, of course, even in the winter, are kept on the slaves. They remain collared. They are slaves.

I had heard nothing more of the approach of enemy forces, but I entertained no doubt as to their imminence and reality.

Even now they might be in the vicinity of the Alexandra.

The blows of great hammers were striking away the chocks that held the ship of Tersites in place, on the great sloping frame.

Hundreds of men were gathered on the beach, and slaves, too.

A signal was conveyed by a banner from the stern castle of the great ship, and the hammers struck again.

There was a cry from the crowd.

There was a thundering roll of wood and the mighty body of the ship of Tersites slid toward the river.

It debouched into the Alexandra.

There was a cheer from the crowd.

Then she turned slowly to starboard, downriver, prow westward.

Water slid from her bow, swelling, washed her sides, closed about her huge rudder, and left its flecked, gentle wake.

Many were the cries of pleasure.

She rode well.

She was stately, majestic, surely no lightness like that of a Vosk gull, given her bulk, but as serene and mighty, and as unchallenged here, as might be some vast lake or river tharlarion in its own domain, some ponderous thing, unable and awkward on land perhaps, but, in the water, oddly graceful, and dangerous, a serene monster, at home in the element in which it was Ubar.

I considered carefully the temporary markings on her bow. Unladen, and without her nest of galleys, the river should come to the first mark. It was so. They had calculated well.

Few, I supposed, understood why shipwrights seized one another, cried out, and threw their brimless caps into the air.

An extra tenth of a pasang had been allotted for the turn, in building her wharfage downstream. Given the absence of empirical precedents it had not been clear how responsive she would be to the helm. But she needed not half the length. To be sure, she had not yet nested her galleys, taken on her crew, her supplies, all that she might care to contain. In the vicinity of the camp, as she was under construction, the river had been deepened, to accommodate her keel near shore. Soundings had been taken, months ago, before construction had begun, to determine that the Alexandra would be navigable, as charts claimed, to Thassa herself. To be sure, in many places she must seek the center of the river. Elsewhere she would feel her way by multiple soundings, sometimes between bars, called upward from small boats preceding her. Such things can change, even overnight. Her galleys, of course, were shallow-drafted long ships and could maneuver in water in which a man might stand upright.

In some fifteen Ehn she was alongside her long, readied wharf. Dozens of ropes had been cast down from her starboard side, to be bound about heavy, deeply anchored mooring cleats.

I trusted that she would not move with the current, and drag the cleats free of the wood, or draw the wharf itself, splintering, from its pilings.

I became aware that Lord Nishida was at my side.

“She is huge,” said Lord Nishida.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you think she is sufficiently secured?” he asked.

“On a few moorings, no,” I said, “on many, yes. The helm, too, will be tied, to lead her back to shore, should she be tempted to stray.”

“I know little about these things,” said Lord Nishida.

“Many,” I said, “know little about these things. We are here in new countries.”

“What do you think of her?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“She will be fitted and rigged in two days,” said Lord Nishida.

“So soon?” I said.

“Necessarily,” he said.

“I see,” I said. So close then was the foe.

“It is unfortunate,” said Lord Nishida, “that Tersites did not live to see this day.”

“Yes,” I said.

Lord Nishida then smiled, and withdrew.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

THE DESTRUCTION OF THE RIVER CAMP;

UNEXPECTED CARGO IS BOARDED;

THE SHIP BEGINS HER JOURNEY

“Nodachi is on board,” said Tajima, in answer to my question.

It was early morning.

A sturdy, planked ramp led upward from the wharf. All night men and slaves, by the light of torches, carrying burdens, had come and gone on this ramp, which led to a large now-opened port in the hull, far below the higher bulwarks. Within this opening many men, some once of the scribes, sorted through these mountains of material and assigned its disposition, in virtue of preconceived arrangements, to various decks and holds.

“It is cold,” said Tajima.

“It will be far more bitter on Thassa,” I said.

I was uneasy noting the quantities of stores brought aboard. It reminded me of the preparations of a city knowing its besiegement was imminent. Months might be spent at sea, never viewing land, on such largesse. Great quantities of water were also brought aboard, this despite the common expedient, on round ships, of adding to one’s stores by capturing rain in extended volumes of sail canvas, thence conducting it to on-ship reservoirs. Commonly of course, the long ships replenish water from their many landfalls, which may be as frequent as every evening. Crates of larmas were brought on board, these to add important elements to a diet which, otherwise, in a long voyage, might lead to diseases of deficiency. The larma does not grow naturally in Torvaldsland, but certain hard fruits do, which, happily, will serve a similar purpose. One might suppose that food might be obtained from the sea itself but that source cannot be relied on. Most edible fish frequent banks, shallow banks, which are commonly near shores, where they are plentiful, not the open sea, where there is little for them to feed on. The nine-gilled Gorean shark will sometimes trail a ship, for garbage, but that is not a source to be relied on either. The shark, being a hunter, is likely to frequent prey areas, the banks, and the shallower waters. Too, sharks are less plentiful in colder, northern waters, than in warmer, southern waters. There would be few sharks, if any, for example, in the vicinity of the Alexandra. The waters are too cold. I had seen many bales of cloth brought aboard, and assorted boxes of various descriptions. I supposed there would be silver and gold, but I was not sure of the value, if any, of these commodities should our voyage succeed in reaching its projected terminus, wherever that might be. There were naval stores, too, lumber, tars, resins, and such, in abundance, and additional canvas. Sometimes sails are shredded in high winds, even carried away, with snapped masts. Much oil was brought aboard, not so much for the ship’s lamps, but for a substance with which to fill clay vessels, with wire handles, of which there were hundreds. These would constitute fire bombs which might be flung from tarnback or launched from catapults. These would be devastating at sea, as on the 25th of Se’Kara, and perhaps effective against tents and wooden buildings, but I feared they would not seriously discommode an infantry. The shield roof in an infantry is usually proof enough against even the arrows and missiles of tarn attack, but the tarn attack is commonly coordinated with an infantry advance. Clearly the shield cannot be used simultaneously to defend one both from the air and the ground. Catapult stones, too, were brought aboard, in hundreds, and “heavy arrows,” almost spears, which might be sped either singly, as from
ballistae
, or, from a
springal
, in showers, their flight propelled by a single fierce blow, that from a horizontal spring-driven board. Luxury items, as well, were in evidence, or what I supposed were luxury items at least, from amongst what was discernible, rich furs, rolled silks, wines and pagas, pans of jewelry, bracelets, anklets, armlets, bangles, necklaces, and such. One girl had carried, on her head, balancing it there with two hands, a bale of what I took to be diaphanous dancing silks. I had little doubt the slaves would later be hurrying about, lightly, serving, in the pleasure cabins on the ship. The men might pick and choose then from amongst what one might think of as on-board paga taverns.