"Master!" she whimpered. "Please Master!" Policrates glanced at her. "Throw me to your men, please Master," she begged.
Policrates gestured to a brawny fellow who, coming up behind the girl bent down and by her upper arms, lifted her from the floor. She was helpless in his arms. Only her toes, well painted, scarlet nails, touched the floor. Policrates gestured gain to a table to the side, and the fellow, carrying the girl went to the table. He then threw her with a jangle of bells and a clatter of places and goblets to the surface of the table. Instantly the girl was held down on the table, on her back, her arms and legs held apart, and several men crowded about her. I heard her cry with pleasure.
"I know who you remind me of," said Kliomenes. "Who?" I asked. "A brawler and dock worker of Victoria," he said, "one called Jason." I smiled. "There is a resemblance," said Policrates. "Jason of Victoria," said Kliomenes, "did not know the sword." "Then how could I be he?" I asked.
"Draw!" cried Kliomenes, leaping across the table and whipping out his blade. I looked, unconcernedly, at Policrates. "My identity is surely established sufficiently by my former possession of the topaz," I said. "Surely too, none who were not of the party of Ragnar Voskjard, should they come into the possession of the topaz would dare to bring it here. What could be the point?"
"These things seem to me true," said Policrates, "but as Kliomenes has said, there seems a resemblance." "Surely I am not to be blamed for that?" I smiled. "Will it hurt to make a test of the matter?" inquired Policrates. I grinned, "No," I said. "But on the other hand, it is well known upon the river that Kliomenes is an excellent swordsman, surely I should be forgiven if I did not find myself eager to be spitted upon his blade. "Draw!", said Policrates.
I threw the cloak behind me and drew forth the blade which was slung at my hip.
With one foot I moved aside the low table watching Kliomenes, that he not attack me as I step upon the table, maintaining an uneven balance.Kliomenes, I saw noted this.Then there was silence in the hall. The pirates, feasting at the low tables, stopped eating and watched. The girls too with their vessels and trays, serving, many of them nude, save for their collars and bangles, stood or knelt quietly, not moving, watching. The torches could then be heard, crackling at the walls.
Kliomenes thrust suddenly at me and I parried the blow, smartly. I did not attempt to strike him. He thrust then thrice again and each time I turned aside the steel.
Men murmured at the tables. He had been too easily thwarted. Suddenly angrily, Kliomenes attacked. For three or four Ehn he struck and slashed at me. Then, sweating, he lowered his blade angrily. I had of intetne particularly in the last two Ehn parried heavily. Strength as well as skill is signifgicant in swordplay, something which is insufficiently understood by many unfamiliar with weaponry. It is particularly telling if the action is prolonged. Whereas one may turn aside steel deftly one may alsok if one chooses, turn it aside with power, which necessitates an additional exertion on the part of the antagonist to return his steel to the ready position. He must, in order to protect himself, under such conditions, bring his blade back through a greater arc, and with additional speed and pressure. Similarly, as may be understood in terms of a simple simile, if one is holding an implement and it is struck with greater force it will be more difficult and tiring to return it to its original position than ifif has not been struck heavily and has not been moved significantly. Sometimes, throuth I had tried not to make this obvious, I had, in effect beaten his blade to the side, rather than merely turned it away.
"Obviously this man cannot be Jason of Victoria," smiled Policrates. Kliomenes angrily thrust his steel into its sheath. I dropped my blade, too, into my sheath. I had not attempted to respond to him, truly, but had only defended myself. Since I has limited myself only to defense, and had not risked the exposures of attack, I had been in little danger, at least for a time.
It is difficult of course to strke a swordsman who is both competent and careful. It is dangerous of course over a period of time to rely solely on defense. For one thing the antagonist, embolded, may press ore and more dangerous sttacks, far more difficult to avert than if he were subject to the necessity of protecting himself. Secondly, of coures, one's defense might falter or become imperfect, particularly over time. Obviously the consequences of even a moment's inadvertence in the dialogue of blades could be irremediable. One who limites oneself solely to defense, and is unwilling to attack, obviously can never win. Too, sooner or later, it seems, he must be doomed to lose. There is no wall so strong that it will not one day crumble.
Kliomenes returned to his place, and I replacing the table to its original position, returned too to my place."Kliomenes," observed Policrates, "you seem weary."I only wished to make a test of him," said Kliomenes, "to determine whether or not he knew the sword." "And what is your opinion?" asked Policrates. "His skills seem adequate," said Kliomenes. "I thought so too," said Policrates, smiling.
I was grateful to Callimachus, he of Port Cos, my teacher. In long hours, from dawn to dusk, and even in the light of lamps, over the past several days, in my house in Victoria, he had labored with me, instilling in me techniaues, and anticipations and reflexes, subjecting me to a tutelage of apprehensions and tactics. I had proved, I think a not inapt pupil. Yet I remained clearly aware of my limitations. A high order of skill with stel is not easily purchased. This is particularly true with the subtle difference and dimensions and increments which tend to divide masters.
"I only wishes to make a test of him, " said Kliomenes, "to see whether or not he knew the sword. I did not wish to kill the courier of Ragnar Voskjard."That is clearly understood," smiled Policartes. "Music," then he called, "and a new dancer, and wenches to serve! Let the feast continue!" The muscians then again began to play, the sensuous, melodious, exciting wild music of Gor.
I picked up a leg of vulo and bit into it. I was relieved, though I gave little sign of it. Kliomenes, angrily, continued to swill wine. A new dancer came forth upon the floor and began, a tall brute near her with the leather, to perform a whip dance.
Girls, some nude, some scantily clad, hurried about the tables, serving food and drink. I looked about, considering the wenches. I did not see Miss Beverly Henderson among them. I did see several, however, whom I would have been delighted to own.
"Wine, Master?" asked a red-headed girl with two leather straps wound about her body. I took wine from her, and gave my attention then to the dancer, a luscious, dark-haired girl. In the whip dance, though there are various versions of it, depending on the locality, the girl is almost never struck with the whip, unless of course, she does not perform well. When the whip is cracked, however, the girl will commonly react as though she has been struck. This, conjoined with the music, and her beauty, and the obvious symbolism of her beauty beneath total male discipline, can be extremely, powerfully erotic.In an elegant, civilized context, one of beauty and music, it makes clear and bespeaks the raw and essential primitives of the ancient genetic, biological sexual relationship of men and women, the theme of dominance and submission, that man is master by blood and women is slave by birth.
Neither too, as say the Goreans, will know their fulfillment until they become true to themselves. We can be conquered, but nature cannot. In attempting to conquer nature, we defeat only ourselves. True freedom and happiness, perhaps, lies not in denying and repudiating our nature but in fulfilling it.
"Bread, Master?" asked a blond-haired beauty, keeling down beside me. She offered me a silver tray on which, hot and seaming were wedges of Gorean bread, made from Sa-Tarna grain. I took one of them and, from the tureen, with the small silver dipper, both on the tray, poured hot butter on the bread. I then dismissed her with a gesture of my head and she rose lightly to her feet and left to serve another. She was unclothed.