"Kill him!" cried a fellow.
"You must withdraw from the delta, in force, immediately," I said.
"There are many columns in the delta," said the officer.
"This column," I said, "is in your keeping."
"We have our orders," he said.
"I urge you to withdraw," I said.
"We have no orders to that effect," he said.
"Seek them!" I urged.
"The columns are independent," he said.
"Do you think it an accident that you are in this place without a centralized chain of command?" I asked.
He looked at me, angrily.
"Ar does not retreat," said a fellow.
"You are in command," I said to the officer. "Make your decision."
"We did not come to the delta to return without Cosian blood on our blades!" said a fellow.
"Make your decision!" I said.
"I have," he said. "We continue west."
There was a cheer from the men about.
"Saphronicus is not even in the delta!" I said.
"If that were true," said the officer, "it could be known only by a spy."
"And I had it from a spy!" I said.
"Then you, too, are a spy," said a fellow.
"Spy!" said another.
"Gag him," said the officer.
I was again gagged. This was done by my keeper.
"Let me kill him," said a man, his knife drawn, but the officer had turned away, consulting with his fellows.
"He tried to warn Aurelian of the tarnsman," said a man.
"He feared only for his own skin," said my keeper.
"And let him fear even more, now," said the other fellow. I felt the point of the knife in my belly, low on the left side. Its blade was up. It could be thrust in, and drawn across, in one motion, a disemboweling stroke.
I stood very still.
Angrily the fellow with the knife drew it back, and sheathed it. "Cosian sleen," he said. He then, with others, turned away.
My keeper then, pushing on the back of the yoke, thrust me over the rail of the barge, and I fell heavily, yoked, into the water and mud. I struggled to my feet, slipping in the mud. I tried to clear my eyes of water. "Precede me," he said. In a moment I was stumbling forward, before him, returning to the raft, the rope on my neck over the yoke, running behind me, to his grasp. I shook my head, wanting to get the water out of my eyes. I felt rage, and helplessness. I wanted to scream against the gag. The men of Ar, I thought, wildly, are mad! Do they not understand what has been done to them! I wanted to cry out to them, to shout at them, to tell them, to warn them! But the gag in my mouth was a Gorean gag. I could do little more in it then whimper, one whimper for "Yes," two for "No," in the common convention for communicating with a gagged prisoner, the verbal initiatives, the questions, and such, allotted not to the prisoner but to the interests or caprices of the captors. But then I thought they would not listen to me even if I could speak to them. They had not listened before. They would not now! I must escape from them, I thought. I must escape! Somehow I must avoid the fate into which they seemed bound to fall. I had no interest in sharing their stupidity, their obstinacy, their doom. I must escape! I must escape! We were then at the raft. It was where it had been left, where it had been thrust up, on a small bar, that it might not drift away when we went forward. He bent down. He picked up the harness attached to the raft. I tensed. I saw a fellow, wading by. "Face away from me," said my keeper. I faced away. Another fellow waded by. "Stand still, draft beast," said my keeper. Another fellow moved by. I stood still. "Do not move," he said. Another man was approaching. I did not move. The harness was fitted about me. The fellow waded by. Angrily I felt the harness buckled on me. I did not know how long the rencers would give them, perhaps until dark. Already the stones might be striking together beneath the water. It seemed then for a moment that we were alone, that none were immediately with us. I spun about, in the rence. His eyes were wild for one instant, and then the yoke struck him heavily, on the side of the head. Surely some must have heard the sound of that blow! Yet none seemed about. None rushed forward. I looked down at the keeper. He was now lying on the bar. He had fallen with no sound. I drew the raft off the bar, into the water. If I could get beyond the men of Ar I was sure I could break the yoke to pieces, splintering it on the togs of the raft, thus freeing my hands, then in a moment discarding the harness and slipping away. I moved away, drawing the raft after me.
For several Ehn I was able to keep to the thickest of the rence. In such places, one could see no more than a few feet ahead. Sometimes I heard soldiers about. Twice they passed within feet of me. The raft tangled sometimes in the vegetation. Once I had to draw it over a bar. Once, to my dismay, I had to move the raft through an open expanse of water. Then, to my elation, I was again in the high rence.
"Hold," said a fellow.
I stopped.
I felt the point of a sword in my belly.
Another fellow was at the side.
These were of course pickets, pickets of the defense perimeter. It had been in accord with my own recommendation I realized, in fury, that this perimeter had been so promptly set, that it was so carefully manned.
I heard men wading behind me.
"Do you have him?" I heard.
I knew that voice. It was that of my keeper. He was a strong fellow.
"Yes," said one of my captors, the fellow with the point of the sword in my belly. He pressed the blade forward a little, and I backed against the raft. I was then held against it, the point of the sword lodged in my belly. I could not slip to one side or the other. I was well held in place, for a thrust, if my captor desired. I did not move. "Here he is, waiting for you, yoked and harnessed, and as docile as a slave girl."
I heard the sound of chain, of manacles.
"Put iron on his wrists," said my keeper. "No, before his body."
In this way my back would be exposed.
One manacle was locked on my right wrist before that wrist was freed of the yoke. Then, as soon as it was free of the yoke, it was pulled to the left, and the other manacle was locked on my left wrist. Only then was I freed of the yoke. My manacled hands were then tied at my belly, the center of the tie fastened to the linkage, the ends of the tie knotted together, behind my back.
"Has the beast been displeasing?" asked a fellow, solicitously.
Men laughed.
My keeper was now behind me, on the raft. Others, too, were there, it seemed, from its depth in the water.
I heard the snap of a whip.
"Turn about, draft beast," said my keeper. "We are marching west!"
My wrists were helpless in the clasping iron.
"Hurry!" said the keeper.
I felt the lash crack against my back. Then, again, it struck.
"Hurry!" he said.
I turned about and, my feet slipping in the mud, my back burning from the blows, wet with blood, turned the raft. I then began to draw it westward, deeper into the delta.
"Hurry!" said he, again.
Again the lash fell.
Again I pressed forward, straining against the harness, westward.
14 The Attack
"You see," said my keeper, thrusting a bit of raw fish in my mouth, "there is no danger."
My gag was wrapped about the neck rope, it now lengthened from the mooring stake on the bar, to permit me to sit up. My feet were still tethered closely, in the usual fashion, to another mooring stake. My hands were now manacled behind my back. Again I did not know who held the key to my manacles. It changed hands, as a security measure, from day to day.
"Listen for the rocks, under the water," I said to him.
"You are mad," he said.
"Did you convey my warnings to your captain?" I asked.
"A watch is being kept," he said, "foolish though it may be."
On the bar there were perhaps some five hundred men.
"Eat," said my keeper. "Swallow."
I fed. I was eager to get what food I could. I think there was little enough for anyone. Ar had brought, by most reckonings, some fifty thousand men into the delta. This had been done without adequate logistical support.