John Norman - Vagabonds of Gor

"Come, slave," said Mincon, and drew on the rope. I watched her being led from our camp, a stripped, bound, hooded, nameless slave, on her rope.

I then glanced to one side, a few yards from our small camp, to a set of stakes. There, attached to one of these stakes by an ankle chain, there was another slave. She was kneeling, and her head was tied down, to her crossed ankles, and her hands were tied behind her back, as were those of the slave who had just been conducted from the camp. The slave at the stake, moreover, was covered with a sheet. It had been put over her head, tied about her neck, that it might thus serve as a slave hood, and then draped over her. I had arranged yesterday, before Octantius had come to the camp, for her to be delivered this afternoon. I had found her here when I had returned with Ina from the camp.

Then I turned about, in time to see a distraught Marcus hove into view. I was quite pleased to note that he was a picture of dejection and misery.

I watched him approach the camp.

"She is not there," he said.

"Oh?" I said. I had become, incidentally, a master actor while with the troupe of Boots Tarsk-Bit. To be sure, he had never permitted me upon the stage, and, after observing my audition, so to speak, had utilized me primarily for other tasks, such as, as I have mentioned, assembling the stage and freeing the wheels of mired wagons. He was perhaps jealous of his own stardom with the troupe.

"She is gone," he said.

"That is often the case with folks who are not there," I said.

But I noted he was in no mood to relish this deft dash of wit.

"I cannot live without h amp;," he said.

"You managed quite well until yesterday morning," I said, "and doubtless, with effort, can do so again."

"No," he said, "not that I have now seen her."

"Just forget her," I said. "Put her out of your mind, like a good fellow."

"No," he said.

"Why are you unsheathing your sword?" I asked, somewhat apprehensively.

"Would you hold it for me, please?" he asked.

"What for?" I asked.

"I intend to throw myself upon it," he said.

"That is one way to avoid having to clean it after use," I said.

"Please," he said, bracing its hilt in the dirt.

"What if you fall sideways?" I asked. "I might get cut."

"Please, Tarl," he said.

"Ina is not here," I said. "Have you not noticed?"

"No," he said, glumly.

"I gave her to the mercenary," I said. "His man, with two others, came to pick her up."

"That is nice," said Marcus.

"It is my hope," I said, "that she will be safe."

"I share your hope," he said, attempting to get the sword adjusted to a suitable angle.

"Could you use some help there?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "Thank you."

"You will try to throw yourself straight on this, won't you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I will."

As he was poised to leap on the sword, I leaned it to the side.

"Are you sure you wish to go through with this?" I asked.

"Quite sure," he said.

"Would you not rather go to a paga enclosure?" I asked.

"Not at the moment," he said.

"Perhaps later?" I asked.

"Please, Tarl," he said.

I again leaned the blade to the side. "It is difficult to look well while leaping on a sword," I said.

"Perhaps," he said, irritably.

"I never realized that before," I said.

"Please hold the blade still," he said. I leaned it to the side again.

"Tarl!" he said, in exasperation.

"I gather that you find the girl of interest," I said.

"I am preparing to kill myself because of her," he said.

"I thought so," I said. "She has taken your fancy."

"Why do you not just drive the blade into my heart?" he asked.

"I suppose I could do that," I said:.

"I am ready," he said, straightening up.

"Yes, you certainly seem to be ready, all right," I said. He had an unusually grim expression on his face, grim even for Marcus, who was a very serious young man.

"Are you sure you can go through with this?" asked Marcus, skeptically.

"I think so," I said. "Certainly it would seem easier, at least on the whole, for me than for you."

"Please, Tarl," he said.

"After all, what are friends for?"

"Strike!" he said.

I lowered the blade.

"What are we going to do for female companionship," I asked, "with Ina gone?"

"That would seem to be your concern, rather than mine," he said. "Strike!"

I lowered the blade again.

"But I have considered that contingency," I said.

"Excellent," said Marcus.

I feared he might become surly.

"I have arranged for a replacement female," I said.

"Excellent," he said.

"I thought you would be pleased," I said.

"Perhaps I have some poison in my pack," he said.

"Would you care to see her?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"You are not in the mood?" I said.

"Not now," he said. "I am trying to end my life."

"I have a better idea," I said.

"A better idea?" he asked.

"Yes," I said. "I really think so."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Surely you recall the smoking ruins of Ar's Station? Surely you recall the vengeances which you have howled against those of Cos?"

A transformation, though a rather unsettling one, a quite menacing one, suddenly came over Marcus.

I handed him back his sword.

He thrust it angrily into his sheath.

"My thanks," said he, "Warrior. I have been weak. I am ashamed. I am grateful that you have recalled me to my senses."

"That is quite all right," I said.

"I do have something to live for," he said, grimly. "I can live for vengeance, deep and profound, terrible, vengeance against Cos and all things Cosian!"

"Certainly," I said. I was actually a bit apprehensive that Marcus, who was something of a man of action, might rush over to the Cosian camp, slashing away at fellows doing their washing, and so on.

"My thanks!" said Marcus.

"It is nothing," I said, uneasily.

"Where now is the replacement female?" he said. He now seemed strong, and angry. Something like the heat of the hunt seemed on him now. He was now ready to cuff a female, hurl her to his feet and throw apart her legs.

"Around somewhere," I said. This was, I was suddenly sure, not the very best time to introduce him to the girl, and for a very good reason.

"Come now," said he, "where is she?"

"Over here," I said.

I led him over to the stake, a few yards away, among other stakes, to which the female, tied kneeling, head down, covered with a sheet, was chained by an ankle.

"Unsheet her," he said.

I bent down and untied the cord which, about her neck, held the center of the sheet, hoodlike, over her head. I put the cord in my pouch. I then, perhaps somewhat dramatically, suddenly drew the sheet away from the bound girl. She moved, wildly, but could not lift her head up, as it was tied down, fastened to her crossed ankles.

"It is she!" cried Marcus, startled, with joy!

The girl, as she could, turning her head in the rope, looked wildly, joyfully, at Marcus.

He fell to his knees beside her, fumbling with the ropes, almost beside himself.

"How! How!" he asked.

I put my fingers over my mouth, to warn the girl not to speak.

She was sobbing with joy.

"How is it possible!" cried Marcus, tearing at the ropes at her ankles.

"She was my captive, and full servant, from long ago," I said, "from the Crooked Tarn."

" 'Full servant'!" said Marcus.

I saw that he would not be too pleased to share this special female. I think he wanted every bit of her to himself. To be sure, I could presumably find a woman here and there on the road, or even, as we passed various markets, buy one and sell her, and then buy another and sell her, and so on, as we traveled.