John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“Coward!” cried another.

“Coward!” said the peasant.

This irritated me. I relinquished my previous determinations with respect to the manner of handling him. Caught in a swift combination he buckled to the sand. I pretended that I was exhausted, dazed, scarcely able to stand.

“What lucky blows!” cried more than one man.

I looked down at the big fellow who, groggy, was sitting in the sand. I tried to appear as though incredulous that he was down, as though I could not believe that I had somehow struck him from his feet.

“Get up!” cried more than one man.

By the arms he was pulled to the side.

“Ten tarsks,” cried another peasant, “that I can best you!”

“Can you fight further, Jason?” anxiously asked the proprietor. Such brawls, supervised, were good for the business of his tavern.

“I will try,” I said.

The second fellow, tearing off his tunic, rushed to the sand and then, scarcely hesitating, rushed upon me, fists pummeling. I think he was startled that he managed to strike home so seldom. Soon his arms were sore. I carried him longer than the first fellow. Then, when some interest seemed to lag in the contest, I finished it. He was dragged by his heels from the sand.

“I do not see how one so clumsy, and who fights so poorly, can win so often,” said a fellow near the sand.

“He has not yet met Haskoon,” said someone confidently.

“I am Haskoon,” said a bargeman, stepping to the sand. Haskoon carried his hands too high.

The next fellow, after Haskoon, was more of a wrestler than one who fights with the fists. But I did not break his back.

The fifth fellow was an oarsman on a grain galley. He was strong, but, like the others, was not trained. That his jaw was broken was an accident.

“Jason is surely now exhausted,” said the proprietor cheerily. “Who will next step upon the sand?”

But none more, as I had expected, ventured forth to meet me.

I lifted my hands and then drew on my tunic. I was not breathing heavily. I was in a good mood. I bought paga for the five fellows who had helped me earn passage money downriver to the next town. This seemed to assuage their disgruntlement. My financial resources, the ten silver tarsks, obtained from the sale of my former Mistress, the Lady Florence of Vonda, to the slaver, Tenalion of Ar, had been severely depleted. Normally such a sum would last a man months on Gor. In these times, however, given my requirements and the prices, particularly those in Lara, I had been forced to have recourse to alternative sources of income.

“You are no common brawler,” said the first fellow to me, the large peasant. “Do not speak it too loudly,” I begged of him. “Very well,” he said. “I have not felt like this,” said one of the other fellows, “since I was trampled by five bosk.”

“I am grateful to you all.” I assured them.

Slave girls crowded about me, to pour my paga. The collars were lovely on their throats.

The proprietor approached our table and I stood up, holding my goblet of paga, to welcome him. “You fought well, Jason,” he said. “Thank you,” I said. I looked down. Kneeling at my right knee, her cheek against my knee, was the red-haired dancing girl. She looked up at me timidly, her eyes shining. As she knelt the slender chains at her collar depended to the polished floor. “You fought well, Jason.” said the proprietor. “She is yours for the night. Use her for your pleasure.”

“My thanks, Kind Sir,” I said. I lifted the paga which I held, saluting the proprietor and, too, those at the table. “My thanks to you all,” I said. Felicitations were exchanged. I then transferred the paga to my left hand. I then snapped my fingers and held my right hand, open, at my hip. Swiftly the girl rose to her feet and, half crouching, put her head by my hand. I fastened the fingers of my hand deeply and firmly in her red hair. She winced, and kissed at my thigh. I then, the goblet of paga in my left hand, her hair in my right, dragged her beside me, her slender chains rustling, to the nearest empty alcove.

Women are almost always auctioned naked. That way a man can see what he is buying.

I turned away from the block in the barn-like structure in Fina, one of the many towns on the Vosk. I heard the auctioneer’s calls fading behind me. I thought he would get a good price for the pretty brunette. She was one of the last items of the evening. Before she had been dragged to the surface of the block, I had examined the remaining girls in the ready cage. She whom I sought was not among them.

Outside the barn-like structure I was stopped by two guardsmen.

“You are Jason, the brawler?” asked one.

“I am Jason,” I admitted.

“You will leave Fina by tonight,” advised the guardsman.

“Very well,” I said.

It had been my intention, anyway, to leave Fina before morning. This had not been the first time, incidentally, that guardsmen had suggested that I leave a town. It had happened once before, at Tancred’s Landing.

Several days ago I had departed from Lara. The troops from Ar, tarnsmen, had not burned Lara. Indeed, perhaps surprisingly, they had done little but clear the town of river pirates and, here and there, gather in a bit of loot and some women, mostly female refugees from Vonda who fell into their hands. Their action, however, the strike to Lara, had caused considerable consternation among the forces of Lara, marching toward Vonda. Things, in this sense, had worked out well for the men of Ar, for the troops of Lara had, in consternation, hesitated in their march northward. They were not, thus, involved in the action which took place shortly afterward northeast of Vonda.

In this action, however, the forces of Port Olni had been, unexpectedly, abetted by troops from Ti, under the command of Thandar of Ti, one of the sons of Ebullius Gaius Cassius. The battle had been sharp but indecisive. At nightfall of the second day both armies had withdrawn from the field. Ar’s committed infantry had been outnumbered but its mobility and its support by their tarn cavalry had compensated to some extent for its lack of weight as a striking force.

Thandar of Ti, interestingly, had not challenged Ar in the skies, but had deployed the mercenaries of Artemidorus of Cos in actions against Ar’s supply lines. Eventually, after several days of uneasy encampments, the haruspexes of Port Olni, Ti and Ar, meeting on a truce ground, had, determined, by taking the auspices, read from the liver and entrails of slaughtered verr, that it was propitious for both armies to withdraw. In this sense, no honor, on either side, was sacrificed. The readings on these auspices had been challenged only by haruspexes of Vonda and Cos.

It was generally understood, or felt, that neither the Salerian Confederation nor the city of Ar desired a full-scale conflict. Vonda, it was clearly understood, conspiring with Cos, had initiated hostilities. In burning and sacking Vonda, Ar had, for most practical purposes, satisfied its sense of military propriety. Similarly, in stopping the advance of the troops of Ar, the Salerian Confederation could feel that it had maintained its own respect.

The tarnsmen of Artemidorus, incidentally, had not molested the slave wagons moving southward. The drivers of these wagons, with their escorts, had only thrown back the canvas to reveal that they carried chained women. The tarnsmen of Artemidorus, then, had flown past, overhead, heedless of the uplifted hands and cries of the women. There is a general Gorean feeling that if a woman has fallen slave she may remain a slave. The women were then silenced with whips.

I think there is little doubt that the cessation of hostilities in the north was in no little part a function of the generosity of the men of Ar, a not impolitic generosity in my opinion, in sparing Lara the fate of Vonda. They had demonstrated that they could have destroyed Lara, but they had not seen fit to do so. This was taken as an expression of disinterest on the part of Ar in all-out warfare with the Salerian Confederation. Also, of course, in the future, this action might tend to divide the confederation in its feelings toward Ar.