The coins cast forth, Myron lifted his arms to the crowd.
Muchly he was cheered.
Then he, with his fellows, descended the ramp and were in a moment again, utilizing the mounting rings, in the saddle. They then wheeled their mounts and began to move south. His helmet bearer, on his own beast, followed him. showing his face to the crowd was judicious, I thought. It suggested openness, candor, trust, rejoicing. Too, the common Gorean helmet, with its "Y"-shaped aperture, of which his helmet was a variant, tends to have somewhat formidable appearance. He smiled. He waved. Peals of rejoicing rang from the signal bars about the city. The crowds, on both sides of the avenue, cheered. Then the musicians struck up a martial air, and the standards turned about. The forces of Cos, too, about-faced. Then they withdrew, south on the avenue, between cheering crowds. Girls rushed out to give flowers to the soldiers. Some of the men tied them on their spears. "Hail Cos! Hail Ar!" cried hundreds of men. "We are free!" cried others. "Hail our liberators!" called others. "Gratitude to Cos!" cried others. "Hail Lurius of Jad!" cried others. Children were lifted on shoulders to see the soldiers. Thousands of small Cosian pennons, together with pennons of Ar, appeared, waving. Both sides of the street were riots of color and sound. "Hail Lurius of Jad!" cried men. "Hail Seremides!" cried others. "Hail Talena!" cried others. "Hail Talena!"
I looked at Marcus.
Phoebe had her head down, her eyes shut, covering her ears with her hands, so great was the din.
But, in a few Ehn, with the passage of the Cosians south on the avenue, the crowd melted away from us.
Phoebe opened her eyes and removed her hands from her ears, but she kept her head down.
We could trace the withdrawal of the Cosians by the sounds of the crowd, even farther away.
I looked at the platform, deserted now. On that platform, barefoot, Talena had stood. She had worn the robe of a penitent or suppliant. She should have been by custom naked beneath that robe, but I doubted that she had been. I wondered what might have occurred had things turned out differently, and not as planned, say, had Myron removed that robe and found her clothed. I smiled to myself. She might have been killed. At the least she would have soon learned the lash of a man's displeasure, in detail and liberally. But I did not think that she, or Seremides, had feared that eventuality. Surely she was of more use to the party of treachery, in which she doubtless stood high, and to the Cosians, on the throne of Ar than as merely another woman, naked and in chains, gracing a conqueror's triumph. Seremides, too, and Myron, as well, I though, had played their parts well.
As I pondered these things some workmen came forth to dismantle the platform. It had served its purpose. Too, at this time the great bars in the Central Cylinder ceased their ringing. We could still hear the ringing of other bars elsewhere in the city, farther away. Too, far off now, like the sounds of Thassa breaking on a distant shore, we could hear the crowds.
I again considered the platform. On it Talena, of Ar, had stood barefoot. I trusted that she had not injured her feet.
Phoebe now knelt beside Marcus, her head down.
"It is strange," I said to Marcus. "The war betwixt Cos and Ar has ended."
"Yes," he said.
"It is done," I said. "It is over."
"With victory for Cos," said Marcus.
"Complete victory," I said.
Marcus looked down at Phoebe. "You have won," he said.
"Not I," she said.
"Cos has won," he said.
"Cos," she said. "Not I."
"You are Cosian," he said.
"No longer," she said. "I am a slave."
"But doubtless you rejoice in her victory," he said.
"Perhaps Master rejoices," she said, "that Ar, who refused to succor Ar's Station, the city of the slave's master, had now fallen?"
Marcus looked down upon her.
"Am I to be now slain?" she asked, trembling.
"No," he said.
She looked up at him.
"You are only a slave," he said.
Swiftly, weeping, she put down her head to his feet. She laughed and cried, and kissed his feet. Then she looked up at him, through her tears. "But am I no longer to be your little «Cosian»? she asked, laughing.
"You will always be my little Cosian," he said.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"Spread your knees, Cosian," he said.
"Yes, Master!" she laughed.
"More widely!" said he.
"Yes, Master!" she said.
"Slave," said he.
"Your slave, my Master!" she said.
I heard the sound of hammers as the workmen struck boards from the platform. "We should seek lodging," said Marcus.
"Yes," I said.
Phoebe rose to her feet beside her master, clinging to him, pressing herself to him, soft, her head down. He nestled her in his arms. How must she was his! "Tomorrow," said Marcus. "I would conjecture that Myron will have a triumph."
"More likely the Ubar of Cos, by proxy," I said.
"Doubtless its jubilation and pomp will dwarf the celebrations of this morning."
"Ar will do her best, I am sure, to officially welcome, and express her gratitude to, her liberator, the great Lurius of Jad," I said.
"Represented by his captain, and cousin, Myron, polemarkos of Temos," he said. This was Myron's exact title, incidentally. Temos is one of the major cities on the island of Cos. The crowd, of course, or many in it, regarded him simply as the polemarkos, or, say, understandably enough, and, I suppose, correctly enough, as the polemarkos of Cos.
"Of course," I said.
"Seremides will doubtless participate in the triumph," he said.
"He should," I said. "It is his, as well. He has doubtless worked hard and long to realize such a day."
"And Talena," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"You sound bitter," he said.
"Perhaps," I said.
"Myron did not accept the sword of Seremides," he said.
"That is understandable," I said.
"I suppose so," he said.
"Certainly," I said.
The acceptance of the sword would have constituted a public token of the surrender of Ar's forces, foot and cavalry, both tarn and tharlarion. That Myron had refused to accept it publicly on the platform was fully in keeping with the pretense of liberation.
"It is my speculation," I said, "that the sword was surrendered yesterday, in the tent of Myron, or, more likely, before his troops, outside the city, and then, later, privately returned."
"Yes!" said Marcus. "I wager you are right!"
"The troops of the polemarkos would expect such a thing," I said.
"Of course," he said.
"So, too, would Lurius of Jad," I said.
"Yes," he said.
"In any event," I said, "with or without such tokens, the surrender of Ar is complete. It has been clearly and indisputable effected. Resistance to Cos has been ordered to cease. The forces of Ar, such as remain of them, have laid down their arms. They will presumably be soon reduced in numbers, perhaps to handfuls of guardsmen subject to Cosian officers, if not completely disbanded and scattered. Weapons will presumable, in time, be outlawed in the city. Her gates have been burned. I would expect, eventually, that her walls, stone by stone, will be taken down. She will then be utterly vulnerable, dependent completely on the mercies of Cos or her puppets."
"It will be the end of a civilization," said Marcus.
"A civilization of sorts will remain," I said, "and arts of a sort, a literature of a sort, and such things."
"Perhaps Gor will be the better for it," said Marcus, bitterly.
I was silent.
"How will the men retain their manhood?" he asked.
"Perhaps they will manage," I said. I had great respect for the men of Ar. "And what will become of the women?" he asked.