Renegades of Gor (44 page)

herself, hoping to please?”

“Who is it?” asked the lad.

“I have not yet named her,” I said.

“Who was it?” he asked.

“Do not concern yourself with the matter,” I said.

“Where then is Lady Claudia, the traitress?” he asked.

“I do not know,” I said.

“It is as Calendonius said,” he said. “You are not Marsias.”

“No,” I said. “I am not Marsias.”

“Who, then, are you?” asked he.

“One whom you have acknowledged as your captain,” I said.

“Yes, Captain,” said he, lifting his bow in salute.

I issued orders, with the injunction that he should, when they were delivered,

return to the upper battlements.

He hastened down the stairs to the right.

I then returned my attention to the slave. I unknotted the thong by means of

which her small, fair ankles had been so securely bound, the one to the other. I

looped the thong in and about the ropes at her back.

(pg.294) At that moment the other young fellow, who had seemed so mature, who

was serving as my messenger to the eastern walkway, gasping, ascended to the

upper battlements.

“We are giving way!” he said.

I had been waiting for him.

He, too, seemed startled to see the slave. “It is not Lady Claudia,” I said. “It

is only a nameless slave.”

“They are calling up from below,” he said, paying the female no more attention.

“The gate is being sundered!”

I issued him orders, orders parallel to those I had given the other young

fellow, with the injunction that he, too, after their delivery, return to the

upper battlements.

I then went to the wall and looked out, once more, on the vast panoply before

me, across the burned, leveled ground, at the engines, the troops, the hulks and

shells of buildings in the distance. In the eastern part of the city there was

still smoke. There had been fires in the city for days. I could even see the

outside wall, far off. It seemed a long time ago, now, that it had been

breached. I then, slowly, drew down the flag of Ar’s Station from the citadel.

That would not be done by Cosians. I did not raise another cloth in its place.

“We have withdrawn to just west of the west gate stairs,” said the young fellow,

reporting from the western walkway.

“Take the slave,” I said, “and put her on the central walkway, behind the upper

battlements. You will find slave rings there, in the wall. Fasten her to one,

kneeling, by her leash.” Such things are common conveniences in Gorean cities,

in public places, and such. Even when the slave it seldom attached to one, she

sees them, and this has its psychological effect with her. She knows that they

are for the tethering of such as she. Here, within the citadel, of course, such

rings, though usually called slave rings, could serve a large variety of

purposes. They are not merely for girls chained there on furs in the moonlight,

for the use of strollers, off-duty guards and such. They may be used, for

example, for such purposes as anchoring war engines, to keep them, in their

reaction, from backing off the walkway, restraining guard sleen, and securing

prisoners. “The return to your fellows, and watch for my signal. It will be

delivered from the central walkway, behind the upper battlements.”

“Yes, Captain,” he said.

(pg.295) “On your knees, woman,” he said.

The slave struggled to her knees.

:On your feet, woman,” he said.

She who had once been Lady Publia rose unsteadily to her feet. It was hard for

her to stand. She had not stood for some times, and her ankles, for some time,

had been closely bound.

The young fellow, seeing her difficulty, took her leash close to the collar,

that he might, if necessary, steady her, and keep her from falling. He then drew

her along quickly, she stumbling, after him. he was in age no more than a lad

and she was a mature, fully grown, beautiful woman but in accord with nature’s

decisions, given the differential parameters involved, those of his size and

strength, contrasting so markedly with hers of slightness, delicacy, softness,

and beauty, he handled her with ease.

I watched then descending the steps to the central walkway. She half fell once,

losing her footing, striking against the right side of the stone stairwell, but

he kept her upright, his hand then literally about her thick leather collar, and

then, in a moment, now again on a short leash, I saw her drawn about the corner,

toward the line of rings below and in back of the upper battlements.

I turned about and the other young fellow, he who was my messenger to the

eastern walkway, climbed to the upper battlements from the eastern stairwell.

“The flag!” he cried.

I handed it to him.

“Keep it,” I said. “One day it may fly again.”

There were tears in his eyes.

“Return now to your fellows,” I said, “and watch for my signal. It will be given

from behind the upper battlements.”

He hurried away.

I looked to the western walkway and saw the other young fellow with the fellows

there. He was behind their lines, facing the central walkway. His presence there

informed me that the slave, her upper body so wound about with ropes as to

almost conceal her beauty, would be at a slave ring, behind and below the upper

battlements, kneeling there, hooded and gagged, fastened to it by her leash.

I looked to the eastern walkway. I saw the other young (pg.296) fellow there

now, clutching the flag in his arms. He, too, was looking back, toward the

central walkway.

It was important to me to coordinate the withdrawal of both wings, to keep

balance in the positions, to prevent flanking movements. Too, I thought I might

buy some time for them by seeming to offer the Cosians an enviable prize, the

capture of the wall commander. I thought this might be of particular interest to

them, given the losses they had suffered this afternoon.

From below, in front of the wall, I could hear the buckling and tearing of plate

on the gate, the pounding of the ram, the groaning and cracking of wood.

I then descended to the central walkway. There were bodies there, as elsewhere

about the walkway, those of Cosians, those of defenders. A Cosian, wounded,

seeing me, tried to struggle to this feet. He was a mass of blood. It was dried

in his beard. His helmet was gone. He could hardly lift his black.

“How are things in Cos?” I asked him.

“Well,” he said.

“Put down your blade,” I suggested.

He thought for a moment and then shrugged. He could scarcely hold it.

I then kicked it away from him.

“It seems the day is yours,” I said.

“That it is,” he whispered.

“Rest,” I said to him.

He slumped back against the rear of the upper battlements, not far from one of

the rings there.

I could hear the ringing of swords, the clash of metal on shields, from both the

right and left.

I then went to the slave, kneeling on the walkway, facing the stone backing of

the upper battlements, tethered there. Her head was actually turned sharply to

the left she was fastened so closely to the ring by the leash. I saw that the

young fellow, though he might be young, had an instinctive sense for the

handling and owning of women.

I took the thong which had originally bound her ankles, which I had earlier

removed from them on the upper battlements, and looped it and about the ropes on

her back, and put it beside me on the stone. I then, holding her wrists, and

(pg.297) by means of them, moving them back and forth, as she whimpered, and

drawing them more closely together, slowly worked her arms more behind her under

the ropes. I then, when I could, crossed her wrists and tied them with the

thong, her arms still under the ropes. I then loosened one end of the long rope

bound about her body and tied it to the ring. I then loosened the other end,

too, and tucked it loosely in among the lower coils, near the waist. She

whimpered piteously, questioningly. I then freed her leash from the ring, where

her neck was held so closely to it. I then drew here to her feet and, turning

her a few times, unwrapping some of the rope, stood her near the edge of the

walkway. She stood unsteadily.

“If I were you, I would not wander about just now,” I said. “Do you understand?”

She whimpered once. “Stay,” I told her, making certain of her compliance, giving

her a command common to slaves. This informs them they are to remain where they

are until moved, or given permission to move. She whimpered once, once again.

She did not know it but she stood but a foot from the drop to the courtyard. To

be sure, now, with the interior debris below, the drop there was only about

forty feet, but then there was another distance, longer, given the angle, down

to the courtyard, down the hill.

I then turned to the left and right, and made certain that I had the eye of my

messengers, the young men on the left and right. I then lifted and lowered my

sword. Immediately following this signal the defenders on both the left and

right began an orderly withdrawal, rear lines first, front lines backing,

fighting, down the stairways closest to them, the two gate stairways, one to the

west of the gate, the other to the east of the gate. The stairways, of course,

were much narrower than the walkway, and could be held by ewer men in the

retreat.

“Ho!” I called to the Cosians to the left and right, lifting my sword.

I saw men pointing to me. I had little doubt that some of them, at least, would

have seen me on the upper battlements, and would realize I had been commanding

on the wall. Too, I stood next to a well-roped woman who, though hooded, and

much covered in the upper body by ropes, would be likely to intrigue them. She

had lovely legs and the contours of the (pg.298) ropes about her upper body

would not leave much doubt that luscious slave curves were the helpless

prisoners of their coarse, serpentine coils.

I sheathed my sword.

It must have appeared to most of them that my escape was cut off, that I was

somehow trapped between the two stairways.

Doubtless we would seem prizes in diverse ways to the Cosians, the commander of

the wall and a female who might hopefully, when unhooded, be found to have a

face to match the excitements of her figure. Too, if she were in the keeping of

the wall’s commander, did this not, in itself, suggest that she might be worthy

a cord and nose ring?

Too, my sword was sheathed. Did this not suggest that I might regard myself as

trapped, as I seemed to be, that I might regard my position as untenable, that I

thus might choose not to offer resistance, that I might be prepared to

surrender?

Almost at the same time one or two scores of fellows, from both sides, began to

race toward me. Others stood back, near the heights of the stairs, to watch.

These things, I assumed, would drawn much pressure from the stairways. My

defenders would probably be able to withdraw more easily, close portals and

block passages.

I thrust the slave to her right and she tumbled off the walkway. There was

suddenly , she losing her footing, knowing herself unsupported, her head jerking

wildly in the hood, her legs moving wildly, treading on nothing, beginning to

turn to her side in the air, starting to plunge downward, a wild, tiny,

terrified, prolonged noise from within the hood, what perhaps a shrill,

terrified scream might have been, if it were to be compressed within the

latitudes permitted by a Gorean gag, emerging then as a small, helpless noise,

one not likely to disturb masters. But in an instant she had gasped and was

jerked up short by the coils of rope, her plunge arrested, but then, again,

almost instantly, the rope began to uncoil from her body and she, spinning, the

rope unwinding, in a series of wild jerks, awkwardly began to descend, riding

the uncoiling rope downward. In an Ihn or so she had struck the hill of debris

and then, still moving, still descending, the rope still uncoiling, turning over

and over, tumbling, rolled toward the bottom, toward the courtyard. For an

instant it had been (pg.299) hard to get my hands on the rope, it was moving so,

over the edge of the walkway, but, a moment or so after she had struck the hill

of debris, I had it in my hands and began to descend it, rapidly, hand over

hand. I would not slide down the rope, incidentally, because I did not have

protection for my hands. Sliding down such a rope for even forty feet or so can

burn the flesh from one’s hands. One can be crippled for weeks. Under certain

conditions, this may be an acceptable cost, but it is not likely to be so if one

expects to have use for the sword in the near future.

As soon as I reached the hill of debris I had my feet under me and then, even

more rapidly, half sliding and jumping, holding the rope, hurried down the hill.

When I reached the bottom of the hill I turned and looked upward. Mainly I

wanted to see if there were any crossbowmen on the walkway. There were none. One

or two fellows looked as though they might be thinking about following me down

the rope, but they did not do so. On the hill of debris they would have poor