"Yes," said the leader.
I betrayed no emotion, but I, too, was puzzled by this intelligence. Such a line of march would not carry the army of Ar toward the Cosians, certainly not directly. Perhaps they intended to cut the Cosians off from Brundisium. That would make sense.
"We have come from the camp of Cos," said Marcus, "where, at great risk to ourselves, we have spied for Ar. We have information. I am no longer certain of the value of this information. A judgment on its value, however, should be made by Saphronicus. Take us to him."
The leader spoke to subordinates. Two men dismounted.
"What are you doing?" asked Marcus, angrily, his hands jerked behind him, then snapped into manacles. My hands, too, were similarly secured. Our sword belts, weapons and accouterments were removed. Two other fellows then tossed down chain leashes, terminating in collars. These collars were locked about our necks. The other ends of the leashes were looped about the pommels of saddles.
"We have some things on the hill, above," I said, indicating the direction of the small camp I had kept.
The leader made a small sign. One of his men made his way up the hill and, in a moment, returned with our packs. These were thrown, tied together, with our other things, over the neck of one of the tharlarion.
"Your guise was that of merchants," said the leader of the men, looking about.
"Yes," I said. That had been told from the packs. They had been inspected.
"These fellows were following you?" asked the leader, indicating the fallen mercenaries.
"Yes," I said.
"It would seem that that was their mistake," he said.
"It would seem so," I said.
"What did they purchase from you?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said.
"No," he said, "they purchased death." Then he told one of his men to drag the bodies into the brush. "Leave them for sleen," he said. They would be removed from the road, of course, the better to conceal the movements of a patrol of Ar.
"Free us!" said Marcus, jerking his wrists in their obdurate confinements, moving his neck in the collar.
But the leader paid him no attention.
The butts of lances entered saddle boots. The crossbows were restored to their hooks on the saddles.
"We are partisans of Ar!" called Marcus, angrily.
"They do not know that," I said to him.
"What are you going to do with us?" called Marcus, angrily.
"Take you to Saphronicus," said the leader.
"Then," said Marcus, cheerfully, turning to me, "all is well!"
"I wish," said one of the men, looking down at us, "that you were slave girls."
He, I suspected, long on patrol, was as needful as I. The allusion, of course, was to a perhaps somewhat ostentatious custom, that of displaying beautiful slaves, chained naked to one's stirrup. There is perhaps a certain vanity in this, but they are beautiful there, and I suspect, we have all known women whom we would not have minded putting in such a place, women who would quite appropriately occupy such a place, and indeed, would look very well there. One of the pleasures of Gor, incidentally, is treating women in such ways, as they deserve.
Marcus struggled futilely, angrily, with his bonds.
The leader lifted his hand, his men now mounted.
"We have nothing to fear," Marcus called to me. "We are being taken to Saphronicus!"
"You will not converse," said the leader. He then lowered his hand and his tharlarion strode forth, leading the way.
Marcus's neck chain was attached to the pommel of the second tharlarion. He looked back at me. Then, half pulled, the collar tight against the back of his neck, he stumbled forward, beside the tharlarion.
Six tharlarion then, in single file, that their numbers might be obscured, followed. Then the ninth tharlarion strode forth and I, too, afoot, in chains, accompanied it. The tenth tharlarion brought up the rear.
It was hot, dusty.
Indeed, Marcus and I would not converse, for he was yards ahead. It was natural that male prisoners would be thusly separated. In this fashion, given independent interrogations, they cannot adequately corroborate one another's stories. One does not know what the other has said, or been told, and so on. Similarly the possibility of active collaboration is significantly reduced. Interestingly, on the other hand, captive women are often kept together, that their suspicions, speculations, fears and apprehensions may reinforce one another, bringing them to a state of common ignorance and terror. This is also useful in increasing their sexual arousal and readying them to please.
It was hot, dusty.
Marcus had it somewhat better I thought. He was almost at the front. There was less dust there. It was natural, I supposed, that he had been placed in this position of precedence. The leader had apparently accepted that he was an officer, and in command of our small party. Surely he had been our spokesman. Too, he was of Ar's Station, and not merely Port Kar. I, I supposed, was understood, naturally enough under the circumstances, to be his subordinate, or man. It might also be mentioned, however, that there was an additional reason for this position of Marcus near the leader, one which puts the matter in a certain perspective. In case of trouble he, Marcus, the presumed leader of the captives, could be quickly dispatched.
We increased our pace. I did not think the trek would be pleasant. Already I was thirsty.
One must distinguish between the slave girl who is put to a stirrup as a discipline, who might be taken into the country like this, even on dirt roads, to gasp and sweat, and struggle, at the stirrup, and the girl who, in a city, or on a smooth stone road, of great fitted blocks, serves primarily, and proudly, considering the honor bestowed upon her, the implicit tribute to her beauty, as a display item in her master's panoply.
It would probably be dark in an Ahn. I wondered where might be the army of Ar.
I looked at the riders.
Doubtless they would have preferred, indeed, that we were females.
Men such as these, of course, who have lived with hardship and danger, when they return to camp, know well how to handle women. In their presence the slaves do not dally. They hurry quickly, frightened, to their chains.
I, too, wanted a woman.
The shadows were growing long now.
A sting fly hummed by. Chained, it would be difficult to defend oneself from such a creature. It was the second I had seen this day. They generally hatch around rivers and marshes, though usually somewhat later in the season. At certain times, in certain areas, they hatch in great numbers.
The dust rose like clouds, stirred by the heavy, clawed paws of the tharlarion.
Marcus had assured me that there was nothing to fear, that we were being taken to Saphronicus.
The chain was on my neck.
I trusted that Marcus was correct, that there was nothing to fear.
I moved my hands in the close-fitting steel circlets which held my hands pinioned so perfectly behind my back.
Yes, there would be nothing to fear.
I hoped, at least, there was nothing to fear.
In any event, we were helpless prisoners. We were totally at the mercy of our captors.
4 The Delta
"Through the eye," I screamed, struggling in the ropes, naked, they tight about my upper body, my hands crossed and bound behind me, fastened closely to my ankles, kneeling in the bow of the small craft, of bound rence. "Through the eye!"
Men screamed about me, and cried out with fear, rage.
The fellow had been taken from the rence craft before me, the comparatively small, less than a foot in breadth at its thickest point, triangular-jawed head, on the long, muscular, sinuous neck, lifting suddenly, glistening, dripping water, from the marsh, turning sideways, and seizing the fellow, then lifting him a dozen feet, on that long neck, screaming, writhing into the air.
"Through the eyes!" I begged him.
"He cannot reach the eyes!" cried a man.
A fellow smote at the side of the creature with his paddle. It backed away, propelled by its heavy, diamondshape, paddlelike appendages, its tail snapping behind it, splashing water.
There was much screaming. Within a hundred yards there was a flotilla of small craft, rence craft, flatboats, barges, scows, fishing boats and rafts, perhaps four or five hundred men.
We heard the snapping of the backbone of the fellow in the air.