Vagabonds of Gor (24 page)

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 logs 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.

Chapter 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.

"That is all," said he.

I looked at him, startled.

"No more," he said.

"You are a hardy chap," said the officer, looking down at me. "I had thought you might have died in the marsh today." It had been hot. The raft had been heavy, many men using it. The keeper had not been sparing with his whip. "Yet it seems you are alive, and have an appetite." Then he said to my keeper. "Do not gag him yet. Withdraw."

As soon as the keeper had moved away a few yards the officer crouched down beside me, and looked at me, intently. I had not seen him approach, earlier.

"You have men listening?" I asked. "Yes," he said.

"You think the thought absurd?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"But you have them listening?"

"Yes," he said.

"It seems now," I said, "that it is you who would wish to speak with me."

"You attempted to escape today," he said.

I did not respond to this.

"It is fortunate that you are not a slave girl," he said.

I shrugged. That was doubtless true. On Gor there is a double standard for the treatment of men and women, and in particular for the female slave. This is because women are not the same as men. That women are the same as men, and should be treated as such would be regarded by Goreans as an insanity, and one which would be cruelly deprivational to the female, robbing her of her uniqueness, her delicious specialness, in a sense of her very self. To be sure, it was indeed fortunate in this instance that I was not a slave girl. Gorean masters tend not to look with tolerance upon escape attempts on the part of such. They do not accept them.

"You understand the point of your gagging?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, "that I not instigate questioning, that I not sow dissension, that I not produce discontent, confusion, among the men, that I not reduce, in one way or another, morale, such things."

He looked down at the ground.

"Do you fear for yourself, that you might begin to reflect critically on the occurrences of recent days?" I asked.

"State your views," he said.

"You seem to me an intelligent officer," I said. "Surely you have arrived at them independently by now."

"Speak," he said.

"I do not think it matters now," I said. "You are already deep in the delta."

He regarded me, soberly.

"Ar," I said, "if you wish to know my opinions on the matter, has been betrayed, in the matter of Ar's Station, in the matter of the disposition of her northern forces, and, now, in her entry, unprepared, into the delta. You were not prepared to enter the delta. You lack supplies and support. By now what supply lines you may have had have probably been cut, or soon will be, by rencers. You do not have tarn cover, or tarn scouts. Indeed, you do not even have rencer guides or scouts. Obviously, too, you have not been unaware of the deterioration of your transport in the delta. Do you truly think it is a simple anomaly that so many vessels, flotillas of tight craft, on such short notice, could be obtained in Ven and Turmus? Was that merely unaccountable good fortune? And now do you think it is merely unaccountable ill fortune that these same vessels, in a matter of days, sink, and split and settle beneath you?"

He regarded me, angrily.

"They were prepared for you," I said. "No," he said.

"Withdraw from the delta, while you can," I said.

"You are afraid to be here," he said.

"Yes," I said, "I am."

"We have all become afraid," he said.

"Withdraw," I said.

"No," he said.

"Do you fear courtmartial?" I asked. "Do you fear the loss of your commission, disgrace?"

"Such things would doubtless occur," said he, "if I issued the order for retreat."

"Especially if it were done singly," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"And there is no clear unified command in the delta," I said.

"No," he said.

"That, too, perhaps seems surprising," I observed.

"Communication is difficult," he said. "The columns are separated."

"And that, you think," I asked, "is the reason?"

"It has to be," he said.

"If you were Saphronicus," I said, "what would you do?"

"I would have a unified command," he said. "I would go to great lengths to maintain lines of communication, particularly under the conditions of the delta."

"And so, too, I said, "would any competent commander."