John Norman - Rouge of Gor

"In the view of hundreds of those of Victoria these men, so few of them, burned and looted, laughing and with impunity, as it pleased them. And in the view of hundres of those of Victoria, angry, but inactive and cowering, not daring to protest, were lofty free women of this town publicly stripped and bound, thence to be carried into shameful slavery, to wear their collars at the feet of buccaners."

"Women belong in collars," he said angrily. "And would you then, " I asked, "willingly deliver them, prizes more fittingly yours, into the hands of such men as Kliomenes and Policrates. Are they more men than you, that such buties should kneel at their feet rather than, fearfully, at yours?"

He lowered his hands head again, putting it in his hands. "I would have thought," I said, "that it would be men such as you who might strike terror into the hearts of men such as they, that it would be men such as you whom groveling slave girls, wary of the whip, might fear even more to displease than they."Give me a drink," he said.

"You are then so fond of Kliomenes and Policrates that you are willing, graciously, to surrender to them the woman and other treasures of this town." "I am not of Victoria," he said."Few in Victoira," I said " are of Victoria, it seems. Yet many reside here. If not men such as we, who then is of Victoria?

"I am sick," he said."There was no leadership at the wharves," I said. "Insult was done upon this town with impunity. I saw hundreds of men, fearful, milling about, with no one to lead them. I saw them intimidated by a handful of organized, ruthless fellows strutting and vain as vulos. I saw free men impressed into the service of loading the goods of the town onto the galleys of the thieves. Men, unprotesting, fearful, saw their properties purloined and burned. Flames linger yet on the wharves. Smoke hangs in the air."He was silent.

"We missed you on the wharves," I said."Why did you interfer in my affairs?" he asked."Once," said I, "in the tavern of Tasdron you saved my life. Is it not my right, then to save yours?" We are then even," he said bitterly. "We now owe each other nothing. Go now. Leave me."

"I have seen Glyco,a merchant, a high merchant, of Port Cos, these several days in earnest converse with you. I think, surely, that he, fearing the union of the pirates of the east and west, was entreating you to lend support to some scheme of resistance."You are shrewd," said the man.

"Yet his entreaties, I gather, have proven fruitless." "I cannot help him," said the man.

"Yet that he came to you suggests that your couarge, your brilliance in such matters, have never been forgotten"

"I am no longer who I once was," he said."I gather that you once stood high among the guardsman of Port Cos," I said."Once I was captain in Port Cos," he said. "Indeed it was I who once drove the band of Policrates from the vicinity of Port Cos." He looked up at me. "But that was long ago," he said. "I no longer remember that captain. I think he is gone now.

"What occurred?" I asked. "He grew more fond of paga than of his codes," he said. "Disgraced, he was dismissed. He came west upon the river to Victoria."

"What was his name?" I asked."I have forgotten," he said sullenly. "Had you been upon the sharves," I said, "things might have gone differently." "Why did you not lead them?" he asked angrily.

"I am only a weakling and a fool," I said, "and I am untrained."He said nothing."One such as you might have made a difference." He extended his right hand. It was large, but unsteady. It shook.

"At one time," he said, "I could strike a thousand blows, to the accuracy of a hair. I could thrust a thousand times within the circle of half a hort, but now — now, see what has become of me." His hand, shaking, then fell. He closed his fist and pressed it against the stones of the dark street. He wept. "Policrates could hve killed me in the tavern," he said. "He knew my weaknesss. But he did not do so For the sake of old memories, I deem, vestiges of vanished realities, he spared me."He looked up at me. "We were youths together on the wharves of Port Cost," he said. "East of us turned to the trades of steel, I to that of the guardsman, he to that of the marauder."

"What did Glyco wish of you" I asked."A plan, a rally point, a flag of memory, a leader, an assault upon the stronghold of Policrates."And what did you tell him?" I asked."It would take a hundred siege ships, and ten thousand men to take the stronghold of Policrates," he said.

I nodded. I did not thank his estimates in error. For all practical purposes, considering the forces that could realisticall be marshaled upon the river the stronghold of Policrates was impregnable. I had heard similar asseverations from others. Miss Beverly Henderson and her beauty, the thought crossed my mind, were now locked behind those lofty, dark walls.

"The situation then is hopeless?" I asked. "Yes,hopeless," he said.

"Tomorrow," I said, "the tribute is to be paid to Policrates." The man shrugged. "It is said," I said, "that the priates own Victoria."It is true," he said. "It is true."

"And are there none to gainsay them?" I asked. "None," said he. "What can I do for you?" I asked sadly."Give me a drink," he said.

I turned away from him and walked up the street to the tavern of Tasdron, which was still open, though much subdued. I entered the tavern. I did not speak to anyone, nor did any meet my eyes. I purchased a bottle of page which I then took from that tavern, retracing my steps to the slumped dark figure sitting against the wall. I stopped before himand he lifted his head from his knees, and looked at me, blearily. I handed the bottle to him, which, fumbling, quickly he reached for. He bit and pulled the cork from the bottle. He clutched the bottle with both hands. He looked up at me, sitting by the wall.

"I am sorry, " I said, "to have spoken cruelly to you. It was not my right. It was in anger, in rage, in frustration, that I spoke, I am truly sorry."Do you pity me?" he asked."Yes," I said, "I pity you.

Slowly, by an act of will, in cold fury, movement by movement the man struggled unsteadily to his feet. There was a terrible fury in his eyes, "Pity?" he asked, "Me?"

"Yes," I said, "You have fallen. You cannot help yourself. It is not your fault. I do not blame you."

"Pity?" he asked. "Me?" I know that you have been disgraced," I said. "I know that the scarlet has been taken fro you."No one can take the scarlet from me, once it is granted, unless it be bythe sword." He tore open the tunic he wore, revealing beneath it, dark, blackish in appearance, in the moonlight, the scarlet."This," said he, "can be taken from me only by the sword. Let himdare to do so who will."

"You are finished," I said. "Drink."He looked dismally, angrily, at the bottle clutched in his right hand.

"You have forgotten the name of the warrior," I said, "who was once of Port Cos. He is no more. Drink."

The man then held the bottle near the neck, with both hands. For a long moment he looked at it. His shoulders then hunched forward, and he moaned in pain. Then slowly, painfully, he straightened his body. He lifted his head to the Gorean moons and, in the dark street, in anguish uttered a wild cry.It began as a cry of angish, and pain, and ended as a howl of rage.He turned about and with two hands broke the bottle suddenly into a thousand fragments against the stone. In the darkness he was cut with glass and soiled with scattered paga."I remember him," he said.

"What was his name?" I asked."Callimachus," he said, "His name is Callimachus, of Port Cos."

"Is he gone?" I asked.Then the man with two fists struck against the wall. " No," he said with a terrible ferocity. There was blood on his hands, dark, running between the fingers. "Where is he?" I asked.Slowly the man turned to face me. "He is here," he said, "I am he."