John Norman - Rogue of Gor

“The scout ship of Ragnar Voskjard,” said he. I had assumed this must be the case. I myself, in my unsuccessful ruse, betrayed, presumably by the Earth-girl slave, Peggy, had posed as a commander of scout ships, supposedly sent ahead by the fleet of Ragnar Voskjard. Now, it seemed, so soon, the actual ship, or ships, though it now seemed there was only one, had appeared, conducted its business, and was now returning westward on the river, presumably to rendezvous with the Voskjard. That a single ship had been involved suggested a certain complacency on the part of the western pirates. Had they truly so little to fear?

“The chain has not yet been cut?” I asked. I gathered that it had not been cut from the nature of the conversation I had heard. On the other hand, it seemed puzzling to me how the Voskjard’s scout ship could have appeared in these waters if the chain had not been cut.

“No,” said the pirate next to me.

“How could she have crossed the chain?” I asked.

“A single ship, posing as a merchantman, not inspected, it was not difficult,” he said.

“The chain was opened for her?” I asked.

“As it is for honest ships,” said the man. He grinned.

“She experienced no difficulties?” I asked.

“We have friends at the chain,” said the pirate.

“I see,” I said.

“She will return, as she came,” he said.

“I see,” I said. Inwardly I was furious. How futile, how ineffective, was the expedient of the chain!

Kliomenes regarded the flat coffers of coins on the tiles before his dais, the jewelry, the bowl of pearls, and the girl.

“Is this,” he asked, “truly an equal division of the spoils of the Flower of Siba ?”

“We have something of the better of it, in my opinion,” said the pirate before the dais.

“I see,” said Kliomenes.

“Not much of great value is currently moving on the river,” said the pirate. “Men are frightened. Most of the loot is being kept in the towns.”

“Once joined with the Voskjard,” said Kliomenes, “we can fetch it forth from the towns, as it pleases us.”

“True, Captain,” said the pirate.

Kliomenes smiled, addressed as Captain, though within the holding of Policrates.

“Put the coins, the jewelry, the pearls in the general coffers,” said Kliomenes.

The pirate before the dais signaled to some men and they removed the coins, the jewelry and pearls from before the dais.

“And what of this?” asked the pirate before the dais, taking the girl by the hair and forcing her head up and back, bending then her body back, so as to reveal the bow of her enslaved beauty.

Kliomenes regarded the girl, musingly. “The values of many things,” he said, “seem patent, but not the value of a slave.” He gestured that the pirate should release her, and he did so. The girl then knelt, looking at him. “Are you only beautiful, my dear?” he asked.

She put down her head, sobbing.

“Keep her in the holding,” said Kliomenes. “I myself shall assess her tonight.”

The girl, then, in her chains, was dragged sobbing from his presence.

Kliomenes then looked at me, and I was thrust forward, stumbling, toward the dais. Unbidden, I knelt. There was laughter from the pirates in the room. I was the last item on his agenda for the morning. He had saved me for last.

“I should have slain you long ago, in the tavern of Tasdron, in Victoria,” said Kliomenes.

“Forgive me, Captain,” I said, head down.

“I understand that you are a braggart, and a liar,” said Kliomenes.

“No, no, Captain,” I said, hastily.

“He maintains,” said the pirate who had conducted me to the room, he normally in charge of the crews of the windlass, “that he deceived both you and Policrates, and us all, by posing as the courier of Ragnar Voskjard.”

“Are you so desperate for status among your fellow sleen,” asked Kliomenes, “that you will risk such lies in this place?”

I kept my head down. I seemed to tremble.

“You warned him, did you not?” inquired Kliomenes, of my guard.

“Many times, Kliomenes,” said the man. “But even this morning he persisted in these assertions, thinking I was not within that distance wherein I might detect his boasts.”

“I see,” said Kliomenes.

“Too, yesterday,” said the man, “he spoke disparagingly of you.”

“What did he say?” inquired Kliomenes, amused.

“He spoke of you as a dolt,” said the pirate.

There was laughter from among the men present. Now, I noted, lifting my head, that Kliomenes did not seem amused. There was resentment of Kliomenes, and jealousy, and fear, I suspected, in the holding. There were perhaps others present who would not have minded usurping his lieutenancy to Policrates. Kliomenes looked about the room, and the laughter instantly faded. “That is indeed amusing,” said Kliomenes, returning his attention to me.

“Forgive me, Captain,” I begged.

“The courier, or he who posed as the courier of Ragnar Voskjard, though not my equal, was not unskilled with the sword,” said Kliomenes.

“Forgive me, Captain,” I begged.

“Do not slay him, Kliomenes,” said one of the men near the curule chair, “for he might be of use in bargaining for the freedom of the true courier of Ragnar Voskjard, who must have been captured by our enemies in Victoria.”

“They would not exchange so valuable a man for this worthless fellow, a dock worker,” said Kliomenes.

“Wait for Policrates,” said the man. “Let him make decision on this matter.”

“In the absence of Policrates,” said Kliomenes, “I am first in the holding.”

“I do not contest that,” said the man, stepping back, angrily.

Kliomenes again looked at me. “Thus,” said he, “if you are truly he who posed as the courier of the Voskjard, you, too, must be not unskilled with the sword.”

“Forgive me, Captain,” I begged.

“Put a sword in his hand,” said Kliomenes.

The fellow near me, who had brought me to the room, withdrew his blade from its sheath. He held it to me, hilt first.

“No,” I said, “no!”

“Take it,” said Kliomenes, evenly.

I took the blade by the hilt, in one chained wrist. I took care to hold it improperly. I held it as though it might have been a hammer, and too close to its guard, which would, of course, in actual swordplay, impair its mobility considerably.

Two or three of the men laughed. Kliomenes then rested back in his curule chair. He had been watching closely. He was a vain and arrogant man, but he was no fool. He had not won his way to the lieutenancy of Policrates by being stupid.

“Can you not kill me as I am, in my chains?” I asked. “Must you mock me?”

“Take him outside,” said Kliomenes, rising, and stretching.

“Please, Captain, one favor,” I begged, “one favor.”

“What?” asked Kliomenes, puzzled.

“Do not let those of the windlass room know what was done to me,” I begged.

“Bring them, in their chains, outside,” said Kliomenes, to my guard, “that they may observe what is done to this fellow.”

“No, Captain, please!” I begged.

But, already, two men were pulling me by the arms from the room.

I blinked against the light of the sun.

I felt the chains on my wrists and ankles being removed. Armed men surrounded me. In one hand I still clutched, with apparent ineptness, and as though in fear, the sword which I had been commanded to take from the pirate.

I looked about. I stood on a board walk, some twenty feet wide, which borders the lake-like courtyard of the holding. We were within its high, formidable walls. Wharfed within the courtyard were only some five vessels, and smaller boats. To my right was the large door, of dark iron, leading into the recesses of the holding. Across the courtyard, some hundred yards or so of deep water, I could see the walkway at the foot of the outer wall, and the stairs leading to the parapets. Too, I could see the great sea gate.