John Norman - Marauders of Gor

"That is the name of the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar," said Ivar Forkbeard.

I looked up at him, astonished.

"The Hilda is my ship," said Ivar Forkbeard, "and the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar will be my bond-maid."

We lay to, without lights, a pasang from the skerry of Einar.

The wrists of the bond-maids were fettered behind their backs; their ankles were tied; they wore the coffle rope of the north; and their mouths, with waddings of sleen fur, and strappings of leather, were tightly gagged.

There was silence on the ship of Ivar Forkbeard. Ivar, and four men, had taken the longboat, which is tied, keel up, on the decking of the after quarter, and made their way to the skerry. With them, her hair combed, warmed with a broth of dried bosk meat, heated in a copper kettle, over a fire on a rimmed iron plate, legged, set on another plate on the stern quarter, her hands tied behind her with simple binding fiber, had gone Aelgifu.

Gorm, who seemed second to Ivar, and I, stood at the railing near the prow on the port side of the serpent.

I could see, against the night sky, the darker shape, but low in the water, of the skerry. Too, against the sky, I could see the tall rune-stone, looking like a needle against the stars, which forms the Torvaldsmark.

Ivar had left the ship in good humor. "I shall return with Aelgifu's ransom money," he had told us.

With him, in the longboat, in a round, bronze can, with twist lid, he had taken his scales, collapsible, of bronze and chain, with their weights. I knew that Gurt of Kassau, too, would bring his scales. I hoped that the weights matched, for if they did not, there would be trouble indeed. Gurt, I knew, if wise, would not attempt to cheat the Forkbeard. I had less confidence in the weights of the man of Torvaldsland.

"Have you a coin you wish to check?" had asked Ivar, seriously, of me.

"All right," I had said, sensing his amusement. I had drawn forth from my pouch a golden tarn. He had placed it on the scale.

"Unfortunately," said he, "this coin is debased. It is only three-quarters weight."

"It bears the stamp," said I, "of the mints of Ar."

"I would have thought better of the mints of Ar," said he.

"If Ar were to produce debased coins," I said, "her trade would be reduced, if not ruined."

"Have you another coin?" he asked.

I put a silver Tarsk, of Tharna, on the scale.

He changed his weight.

"Debased," said he. "It is only three-quarters weight."

"Tharna, too," I said, "is apparently tampering with her coinage."

"The worst," said Ivar Forkbeard, "is likely to be the coinage of Lydius."

"I expect so," I said.

I smiled. The ransom money of Gurt of Kassau would, doubtless, be largely composed of the stamped coin of Lydius. The only mint at which gold coins were stamped within a thousand pasangs was in Lydius, at the mouth of the Laurius. Certain jarls, of course, in a sense, coined money, marking bars of iron or gold, usually small rectangular solids, with their mark. Ring money was also used, but seldom stamped with a jarl's mark. Each ring, strung on a larger ring, would be individually weighed in scales.

Many transactions are also done with fragments of gold and silver, often broken from larger objects, such as cups or plates, and these must be individually weighed. Indeed, the men of the north think little of breaking apart objects which, in the south, would be highly prized for their artistic value, simply to obtain pieces of negotiable precious metal. The fine candlesticks from the temple of Kassau, for example, I expected would be chopped into bits small enough for the pans of the northern scales. Of their own art and metalwork, however, it should be mentioned that the men of the north are much more respectful. A lovely brooch, for example, wrought by a northern craftsman, would be seldom broken or mutilated.

"I have two pair of scales," admitted Ivar Forkbeard, grinning. "These are my trading scales," he said.

"Do you think Gurt of Kassau will accept your scales?" I asked.

The Forkbeard fingered the silver chain of office, looped about his neck, which he had taken from the administrator of Kassau. "Yes," he said, "I think so."

We laughed together.

But now, with Gorm, and the men of Ivar Forkbeard, I waited, in silence, on his serpent.

"Should the Forkbeard not have returned by now?" I asked.

"He is coming now," said Gorm.

I peered through the darkness. Some hundred yards away, difficult to see, was the longboat. I heard the oars, in good rhythm, lifting and dipping. The oar stroke's spacing was such that I knew them not in flight.

Then I saw the Forkbeard at the tiller. The longboat scraped gently at the side of the serpent.

"Did you obtain the ransom money?" I asked.

"Yes," said he, lifting a heavy bag of gold in his hand.

"You were long," I said.

"It took time to weigh the gold," he said. "And there was some dispute as to the accuracy of the scales."

"Oh?" I asked.

"Yes," said the Forkbeard. "The weights of Gurt of Kassau were too light."

"I see," I said.

"Here is the gold," he said, hurling the sack to Gorm. "One hundred and twenty pieces."

"The scales of Gurt of Kassau, I see," I said, "weighed lightly indeed."

"Yes," laughed the Forkbeard. He then threw other purses to Gorm.

"What are these?" I asked.

"The purses of those who were with Gurt of Kassau," he said.

I heard a moan from the longboat, and saw something, under a fur of sea sleen, move.

The Forkbeard threw off the fur, revealing the proud Aelgifu, bound hand and foot, gagged, lying in the bottom of the boat. She still wore her black velvet. She looked up, her eyes terrified. The Forkbeard lifted her up to Gorm. "Put her in the coffle," he told him.

Aelgifu was carried to where the bond-maids, perfectly restrained, lay. The binding fiber on her wrists was removed. Her hands were fettered behind her. The coffle rope was looped about her throat, and knotted. Gorm left her ankles, like those of the bond-maids, securely bound.

I helped the Forkbeard and his men lift the longboat to the deck. It was tied down on the after quarter, keel up.

Suddenly an arrow struck the side of the ship.

"Free the serpent!" called the Forkbeard. "Benches!" The two anchor hooks, fore and aft, were raised. They resemble heavy grappling hooks. Their weight, apiece, is not great, being little more than twenty-five Gorean stone, or about one hundred Earth pounds. They are attached to the ship not by chain but by tarred rope. The men of the Forkbeard scurried to their benches. I heard the thole-port caps turned back, and the oars thrust through the wood. I could see, from the shore, black and dark, more than a dozen small boats, containing perhaps ten or fifteen men each, moving towards us. Two more arrows struck the ship. Others slipped past in the darkness, their passage marked by the swift whisper of the feathers and shaft.

"To sea!" called the Forkbeard. "Stroke!"

The serpent turned its prow to sea, and the oars moved down, entered the water, and pulled against it.

"Stroke!" called the Forkbeard.

The serpent slipped away. The Forkbeard stood angrily at the rail, looking back at the small flotilla of boats, dark in the night.

He turned to his men. "Let this be a lesson to you," he called to them, "never trust the men of Kassau!"

At the oars the men struck up a rowing song.

"And what did you do with Gurt and those with him on the skerry?" I asked.

"We left them naked," said the Forkbeard. Then he looked aft, at the small boats falling behind. "It seems these days," he said, "one can trust no one."

Then he went to the bond-maids. "Remove their gags," he said.

Their gags were removed, but they dared not speak. They were bond-maids. Their bodies, bound, loot, prizes of the Forkbeard lying in the darkness, among the glint of the gold taken in the sack of Kassau's temple, were very beautiful.