Mariners of Gor (66 page)

“Tereus, Tereus!” insisted Seremides.

“One does not know,” said Tyrtaios.

“The matter was cleverly done,” said Lord Okimoto, “and moved from man to man. Where it began may remain unclear.”

“Somewhere it must have begun,” said Tyrtaios, “and from somewhere been monitored and directed.”

“Doubtless,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Consider the perfidious Tereus, Lord,” said Seremides.

“Do you think, upon reflection, good Tyrtaios,” asked Lord Okimoto, “that our friend, Tereus, a simple oarsman, could have managed so much, so well?”

“He spoke for the desertion, he led the flight, he was first through the gate,” said Seremides. “His guilt is obvious!”

“Too obvious,” said Lord Okimoto.

“I do not think so, Lord,” said Tyrtaios.

“Nor I,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Then Rutilius,” said Tyrtaios.

“No!” said Seremides.

“I think it would have been difficult for Rutilius,” said Lord Okimoto.

“Then, who?” said Tyrtaios.

“Yes, who?” said Lord Okimoto. He then gestured that the disarmed, weary, disconsolate Tereus be conducted, his arm stained, his steps slow, in his turn, to a prison barracks.

Seremides, angrily, turned and hobbled awkwardly away, the crutch poking at, and dragging in, the dirt.

Various times, in the last few days, he had importuned me to kill Tereus for him.

I had, of course, refused.

“I will come again to power,” he said. “You are my only friend. You protect me. You saved my life. I will not forget that. I will come again to power. You will stand high.”

“I will not kill Tereus for you,” I said.

“Get him drunk,” said Seremides. “Provoke a quarrel. Strike. It will not be difficult.”

“No,” I said.

I thought that Tereus might be more safe in the prison barracks than free on the castle grounds, particularly at night.

It is dangerous to be feared by Seremides.

I had then turned away from him.

“Callias,” said Tyrtaios.

“Noble Tyrtaios,” I said.

“We owe you much,” he said. “Had it not been for your intervention, at the gate, the time taken, the desertion might have proceeded apace.”

“I do not think so,” I said. “I think the desertion was anticipated, and prepared for.”

“Betrayed by Rutilius?” he said.

“I suspect it was independently anticipated,” I said. “The Pani are not fools.”

“In any event,” said Tyrtaios, “it is clear you were not with the desertion.”

“That is true,” I said.

“That will be remembered,” he said.

“How so?” I said.

“Perhaps I may find a way for you to be rewarded,” he said.

“You?” I said.

“Yes, I,” he said.

“I need not be rewarded,” I said.

“That is for me to say,” he said.

“You have friends?” I said.

“Of course,” he said.

“Where?” I asked.

“Here and there,” he said.

“And they might arrange my reward?”

“Quite possibly,” he said.

I recalled seeing Tyrtaios in company with several fellows, the past few days, fellows from various decks. Some of them had been amongst the deserters, and were now incarcerated in a prison barracks.

If a snake could take human form, and the form of a warrior, I thought, would it not be much like the form of Tyrtaios?

I suspected that the machinations of Tyrtaios lay behind the abortive desertion. It would not do to say so, of course, for he stood close to Lord Okimoto.

I did not think that Seremides had planned and organized the desertion. As he had suggested, few would take him seriously, now, as a leader. I did suppose that he, unobtrusive, scarcely noticed, might have overheard revealing remarks, and thus come upon the matter. He may well have conveyed his intelligence to the Pani, particularly had he inveighed with Tereus, or others, to permit him to accompany the flight, and had had his request refused. Why should others escape the World’s End, if not Seremides? I speculated, of course, that the Pani had independently anticipated, and prepared for, such an exigency. Its likelihood would have been much increased given the miserable return of the exploratory force and the arrival of enemy troops, in force, in the vicinity. Seremides had, of course, attempted to use the failure of the desertion, naturally enough, as an opportunity to embroil Tereus, whom he feared, with the Pani.

I wondered, of course, if Lord Okimoto suspected Tyrtaios, as well. Certainly Lord Okimoto, despite his ponderous bulk, his measured, graceful movements, and such, was, like Lord Nishida, a very clever man. I supposed that one neither easily attained, nor easily retained, the status of
daimyo
in these strange, warlike islands. And too, I wondered, what must then be the nature of a
shogun
?

I was troubled by the events of the past ten Ahn or so. Much moved in my mind that I did not understand. It seemed formless, and yet on the verge of form. I think now, in retrospect, that it was clear enough to me, but that I was unwilling to let it stand before me, but that I rather kept it to one side, knowing it was there but refusing to look upon it.

I went to the inner wall, the high wall, as I had the previous night, and, standing on the parapet, again surveyed the countryside. I had seen campfires last night; this morning, or early noon, I saw a great number of tents. Where the village had been there was now debris, and darkness, and ash. When the wind shifted a bit, a hint of smoke still reached the parapet.

Some Pani were on the wall, as well, and some were equipped with a glass of the Builders. There was a drum in view, and, if there was movement below, massive movement, as opposed to tiny parties, scouting, I had no doubt a muster would sound, and the walls might be manned.

I did not know if Lord Yamada, or his generals, contemplated addressing the castle, or had come largely to destroy villages, and fields. I knew, at least according to report, the castle had never been taken. Clearly, as it was manned, and provisioned, it would be costly to attack. It seemed to have little to fear, at least for months, unless it be treachery.

I thought of the disarmed men, more than eight hundred and fifty, indeed, precisely, eight hundred and seventy, now held in the three prison barracks, hot, windows boarded, guarded by Pani. It would not do, of course, to keep them there indefinitely. At some point they would have to be released and rearmed. And then, I thought, would not the same prospects and dangers confront them as before, prospects and dangers which once encouraged them to think of flight, and might well again?

On the parapet I suddenly felt sick, and cold.

I was of the ship.

I knew what the Pani would do.

I turned about and hurried down to the courtyard. I must seek an audience with Lord Nishida.

Perhaps I would be slain, or put in the prison barracks with the fellows I had sought to deter from the rashness of desertion.

Or, perhaps there would yet be time to flight a messenger vulo to the mountains, to contact Tarl Cabot.

I knew what I must do, as I was of the ship.

Chapter Thirty-One

I Fail to Satisfy the Curiosity of Seremides

“Surely you know what they plan to do!” said Seremides.

“Yes,” I said, “but I do not think they will act until night.”

The eight hundred and seventy men were still held in the prison barracks. They would not interfere. They would be kept there until afterward, at least until tomorrow, when it would be too late.

A weapons inventory had been ordered for the loyal armsmen, and all weapons more serious than daggers were to be put into the great
dojo
, or training house, to be counted.

I did not think that most of the armsmen suspected what was afoot.

All morning and into the afternoon coffles of slave girls, ours, those brought on the great ship, and local girls, lovely, but of a low-Pani sort, kept in the castle for the pleasure of the Pani warriors, roped together, had descended to the wharf and then, laden with treasure, had been conducted up the trail, not by boys now, but by Pani warriors, to the high wharf gate. More than one such trip had been made. It was made clear to our men, our armsmen and mariners, that this action was intended to be one much to their benefit, that it was intended to secure and safeguard the treasure. Most of the men, given the identificatory markings on sacks and boxes, carefully checked and recorded, accepted this explanation, and even welcomed the removal of their wealth from the ship, and its storing closer at hand, under conditions of greater security. Given the harrows of the night of desertion, it was no longer accepted, at least uncritically, that the ship constituted an impregnable, unassailable refuge or depository for one’s riches. Better that they be guarded, and by our own armsmen, within the grounds themselves. Were they not vulnerable, outside the walls? Might there not be bandits? Might not the fleet of Lord Yamada appear, unexpectedly, or might not forces be landed from it, somewhere in the vicinity, which might raid the ship? Indeed, did not soldiers of Lord Yamada even now camp within sight of our walls?

It was late afternoon.

Our girls had been returned to their kennels, in the sheds, and the Pani girls to their housings within the castle.

The treasure, I gathered, was now on the grounds.

Interestingly, the Pani girls, though slaves, and of low-Pani origin, had been much distressed that they had been neck-roped in the same coffle with our ship slaves. Some had dared to voice their objections, and had been well switched, across the backs of the calves and ankles, by the Pani warriors charged with the care of the coffle, in this instance, as indicated, a treasure coffle, one used to transport carefully sealed, and marked, sacks and boxes from the ship, containing wealth derived from the derelicts of the Vine Sea. Were some slaves, truly, as might be suggested by the protests of the Pani slaves, objections promptly rebuked by the sting of switches, so appropriately despised, and so obviously inferior to others, that it was humiliating to share a coffle with them? Certainly there were differences amongst the slaves, with respect to the nature of their eyes, the color of their skin, their accents, and such. Who could, or would wish to, gainsay that? On the other hand, beyond that, what would remain to be said? Surely they were all attractive. This is not surprising. If a woman is not attractive, she is not likely to be enslaved. Let the homely, plain ones be as free as they wish. Surely the Pani slaves and our ship slaves, despite obvious differences in appearance, had much in common. Each was attractive. Each was a purchasable beast, a domestic animal. Each was a slave. Thus, despite the concerns of the Pani collar meat, how could they be more equal? On the other hand, our ship slaves, with their generally fair skins, were neck-roped at the end of the coffle, which is often taken as a position of inferiority. This, I gather, pleased their Pani chain sisters.

One additional point might be noted with respect to the treasure coffle. The boxes, on straps, and the sacks, on cords, were slung about the slaves, two to each slave, a balanced load, one strap or cord running from the left shoulder to the right hip, and the other from the right shoulder to the left hip. This was because the hands of the slaves were not free, as is common in a coffle. The hands of the Pani slaves were tied together, and fastened about their collar, either in front, or behind the neck, and the hands of the ship slaves were thonged together behind their back. The reason for this was to preclude any possible attempt to rifle the contents of a box or sack. To be sure, as these containers were sealed, and marked, it was unlikely that any such tampering, or pilfering, would take place, certainly without being eventually detectable. This arrangement also made it unnecessary, at the journey’s end, to examine the bodies of the slaves, or, for the next day or two, their wastes.

“They will not act,” said Seremides, “until the ship’s garrison is withdrawn, to the wharf, or trail.”

“That will be after dark,” I said.

“The trail, the wharf, will be guarded,” he said.

“Doubtless,” I said.

“Should it not be taken to sea first?” said Seremides.

“I do not think they will risk that,” I said. “Too, these Pani are not mariners.”

“Do you have a plan?” asked Seremides.

“How is it that I, one such as I, should have a plan?” I asked.

“What is to take place?” he said.

“Much is uncertain,” I said.

“Take me with you,” he said. “Do not leave me here!”

“How is it that I should go, anywhere?” I said.

“Take me with you,” he said.

“Stay with your treasure,” I said.

“We must seize it, and take it,” he said.

“It is guarded,” I said.

“I know a slave,” he said, “who would be worth gold in Ar.”

“What slave?” I said.