The Usurper (58 page)

Chapter Fifty-Six

Otto looked quickly about.

Ingeld was not present.

He had hoped to get his hands on the throat of Ingeld.

Ingeld, he was sure, had something of value, even if he did not know its value.

The hall was bare, with few furnishings, only the high seat, and some benches. He saw no chests, no strong box.

Yet the hall had been guarded.

Did that not suggest that something of value might be about?

Otto looked carefully about the hall. However simple, primitive, and bare it might be, there must be a place to sleep, a place to store things.

And in such a place, a place to sleep, a place to store things, might there not be something of value?

Liegemen might sleep about, in their blankets and furs, on the floor, but surely not the liegelord himself.

Otto then noticed a small door, almost concealed in the rude, heavy planking of the wall. Such a door, he was sure, must lead to a small room, a storage room, a sleeping chamber.

He strode to this door, and flung it open.

“You!” cried Huta, spinning about in alarm.

She stood next to a couch, presumably the couch of Ingeld. There was a ring in its foot, but she was not chained to this ring.

“On your knees,” said Otto, “head to the rushes.”

Instantly, the former priestess knelt, thrusting her head, with the long, flowing dark hair cascading about it, to the rude flooring of the small room.

“Do not move,” said Otto, looking about.

“Yes, Master,” said Huta.

Otto saw no strongbox. Aside from the couch, the small room was not much different from the large chamber without.

Otto turned to regard the former priestess.

“She looks well as a kneeling slave,” he thought. “But then what woman does not?”

“Where is Ingeld?” he asked.

“He, Abrogastes, and Hrothgar,” she said, head down, “two days ago, took ship to Telnar.”

Otto clenched his fists, in frustration.

“With two prisoners?” he asked.

“The Princesses Viviana and Alacida,” said Huta.

“Surely it is dangerous for Drisriaks, and high Drisriaks, not agents, to venture to Telnaria,” said Otto.

“Not only to Telnaria, Master,” she whispered, “but to Telnar itself.”

“How can it be?” asked Otto.

“It is arranged through the empress mother and the Exarch of Telnar,” sobbed Huta, suddenly.

“To what end?” demanded Otto, wishing to hear the suspected answer from the slave herself.

“To celebrate the nuptials of the sons of Abrogastes to the princesses,” sobbed Huta.

“What is it to you, a slave?” asked Otto.

“Nothing, Master,” she sobbed. “I am a slave, only a slave.”

“You were taken for the collar long ago, here, on Tenguthaxichai,” said Otto, “in the time of Ortog, by Abrogastes. What are you doing here, in the hall of Ingeld?”

“I hate the princesses!” wept Huta.

“What are you doing here, in the hall of Ingeld?” said Otto, again.

“He did not take me with him!” sobbed Huta.

“Ingeld?” said Otto.

“Yes!” she said.

“What should that matter to you?” asked Otto.

“I love him!” she said.

“But you are a slave,” said Otto.

“Yes,” she said. “I am a slave!”

“By what right then?” asked Otto.

“By the right of a slave, to love her Master!” said Huta.

“Slaves have no rights,” said Otto.

“But we love, we love!” wept Huta.

“You can be bought and sold, like a pig,” said Otto.

“But we love, we do love!” wept Huta.

“You were a priestess,” said Otto, “superior to such things.”

“A collar was put on my neck,” she said. “I learned the weight of chains. I learned to crawl to a man, the switch between my teeth, whimpering for his touch. I learned to love, not as a free woman loves, but as a slave loves, without reservation or qualification, without expectations or demands, to love helplessly, completely, and abjectly, as is appropriate for one who is surrendered, submitted, and owned.”

“As you are here,” said Otto, “I take it that Ingeld is your Master.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“Oh!” she cried, as her head was yanked up, and bent back.

“I cannot read,” said Otto, “but I know the sign of Abrogastes, and the sign of Ingeld. Your collar bears not the sign of Ingeld, but that of Abrogastes. And, could I read, I suspect that the legend on your collar in Drisriak, and that in Telnarian, attest not to the fact that you are the property of Ingeld, but that you are the property of Abrogastes.”

She clutched her collar futilely weeping. “My collar betrays me!” she wept.

“As it would any lying slave,” said Otto.

“Do not kill me, Master,” she begged, putting herself to her stomach and pressing her lips, again and again, piteously, desperately, to Otto's boots.

Otto stepped back, pulling away from her, and she looked up, frightened, tears in her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I love Ingeld,” she said. “I wanted to be near his couch. I wanted to kiss its slave ring. I wanted to touch its furs. I wanted to lie, humbly, like a dog, at its foot.”

“What if you are found here?” asked Otto.

“I must not be found here!” she said.

“How did you get here?” asked Otto.

“I was unnoticed,” she said. “When there are several slaves about, who notices slaves, or pigs?”

“A slave such as you would be noticed,” said Otto. “You would sell nicely off a block.”

“I am only a slave,” she said. “I slipped past the guard.”

“How do you propose leaving?” asked Otto.

“Similarly,” she said. “I have done it before, many times.”

“But perhaps,” said Otto, “you shall not manage it this time.”

“Master?” she said, looking up.

Otto looked about the small, plain room. On one wall was some harnessing, and some loops of thongs.

“Squirm about, as you are, on your belly,” said Otto. “Get your head facing away from me. Cross your wrists behind your back. Cross your ankles.”

Huta obeyed, promptly. “Master?” she said, frightened.

“There are thongs here, on the wall,” said Otto. “Doubtless Ingeld uses you as a Thong Girl.”

“He does with me what he wishes,” she said.

“Perhaps you enjoy his thongs,” said Otto.

There are many ways in which a girl may be thonged.

“In his thongs, I am helpless,” she said. “In his thongs I know rapture.”

“But you do not know rapture now, do you?” asked Otto.

Huta had now been thonged.

“No, Master!” she said. She squirmed about, on her side, to face him. Her small ankles fought the thongs. Her lovely wrists pulled futilely against them.

“You are well trussed,” said Otto, standing, admiring his handiwork.

“Please unbind me, Master!” she whispered. “I cannot free myself.”

“It was not my intention that you should be able to do so,” said Otto.

“In time, men will search for me, the armsmen of Abrogastes. I must not be found here!”

“Farewell,” said Otto, turning away.

“Do not go!” she pleaded. “I will scream.”

“Do so,” said Otto.

“But someone would hear,” she wept. “They would find me here!”

“That is why I did not bother gagging you,” said Otto.

“Surely you cannot leave me here, as I am!” she said.

“You are a slave who has been unfaithful to her Master,” said Otto. “Farewell.”

“No, no, wait, Master!” she wept. “It can be no accident that you are here. You must have a purpose. What do you want? Perhaps I might be of assistance. Is it information you want? I might know something of interest. A slave hears much, knows much! Might I not be of help? Is there nothing I can do?”

“I search for an object,” said Otto. “It is a medallion; it is on a chain.”

Huta's face went white. “I dare not, Master,” she said.

“Very well,” said Otto, placing his hand on the latch.

“Do not go!” she wept. “You do not want it! It is worthless! Lord Ingeld told me. It is only one of more than a hundred, perhaps a thousand, similar things. Once it was thought of great value. Now it is meaningless.”

“Where is it?” said Otto.

“I do not know,” she said.

“I depart,” said Otto.

“It is a thing of Lord Ingeld,” she said. “I dare not reveal its hiding place.”

“If it is worthless, why should it have a hiding place?” asked Otto.

“I do not know,” she said.

“It is about,” said Otto. “I am sure of it.”

Huta struggled, futilely.

“There is no point in struggling,” said Otto. “Surely you are familiar with what it is, to be a well-thonged slave.”

“I beg mercy,” she said.

“Does Lord Ingeld know that you are aware of the location of the object?” asked Otto.

“No,” she said. “I discovered it when alone in the hall. Dirt had been turned. I was curious.”

“Does anyone know you frequent the hall in the absence of Lord Ingeld?” asked Otto.

“No,” she said. “I have never been discovered here.”

“Until perhaps an hour from now,” said Otto.

“Mercy!” she whispered.

“Where is it?” asked Otto.

“In the hall, buried,” she said. “I will show you the place.”

“The guard will remember me,” said Otto. “It will be understood I have taken the object. Your role in this will be unknown. After I have departed, I advise you to disturb the soil of the hall, in several locations, so it will seem that a search of some sort was conducted.”

“Yes, Master,” wept Huta.

Otto then bent to undo the thongs on the slave's wrists and ankles.

“Where is the place of the ‘Horse Death'?” asked Otto.

“In the yard behind the hall of Abrogastes,” she said.

“You will have no difficulty leaving the hall this afternoon,” said Otto.

“How is that, Master?” asked Huta.

“The guard will be unconscious,” said Otto.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

“What is going on here?” demanded Farrix. “Move back!”

“I and my colleagues,” said the merchant, “have come for the feast.”

“There is no feast,” said Farrix. “Beware that you are not trampled.”

One of the horses growled, and shied its massive form to the side.

“They are large, are they not?” said the merchant.

“Beware you do not lose an arm,” said Farrix.

“To be sure, I am early, but so, too, I see, are others,” said the merchant.

“There is no feast here,” said Farrix.

“Is this not the yard behind the hall of noble Abrogastes?” asked the merchant.

“It is,” said Farrix, angrily.

“Then this is the place,” said the merchant.

“What do you need these cumbersome beasts for?” asked another.

“They are half the size of a
torodont
,” said another.

“I have seen some as large,” said another.

“What are these beasts for?” asked another.

“They are to draw wagons with crates of steaming viands from the kitchens, kegs of
bror
and
kana
,” said another.

“Go away,” said Farrix.

“We are here for the feast,” said another merchant, one in yellow robes.

“There is no feast here,” said Farrix.

“You must be mistaken,” said a merchant. “The word is all over the compound. The noble Alemanni are entertaining all the delegations with a great feast. It is celebrating the end of the selling, and in anticipation of the joyous unitings of princes and princesses. See? Here come several others, in festive regalia. There is no gainsaying the generosity of the Alemanni.”

“There is no feast!” said Farrix.

“Do you mean to say you have not been told?” asked another merchant. He looked about. “Where are the tables, the benches, the tents?”

“There is no feast,” said Farrix. “Be careful there! The animals are not used to crowds.”

“Here come more guests, at least a hundred,” said a merchant.

“Many have brought their domicile slaves,” said another merchant.

“And retainers,” said another.

“You there,” said Farrix. “You, big fellow, you in the hood, you on the other side of the horse. It is dangerous. It could turn and seize you. Get away from it.”

As the large fellow did not much move, and seemed inclined, rather, to stroke the beast, perhaps to pacify it, Farrix, angrily, moved about the large form.

“Away!” he said, waving his arm. “There is no feast!”

“There are different sorts of feasts,” said the large man in the saffron merchant robes. “There are feasts of blood, of steel, of joy, of vengeance, of war, of peace, of hate, of justice.”

“You!” cried Farrix.

A massive hand thrust forth from the saffron sleeve and seized Farrix by the throat, and shook him, and Farrix fell dazed, gasping for breath, at Otto's feet. It took Otto only a moment or two to fasten the ropes on Farrix's half inert, shuddering form, a rope on each limb. He then led the animals in such a way as to tauten the ropes.

“I would lie quietly, friend,” said Otto. “A quick word and a few slaps and these four fine beasts will go their separate ways.”

“Do not stir the beasts!” said Farrix.

“What is this all about?” asked a merchant, curious.

“Entertainment, for the feast,” said Otto.

“How is he to free himself?” asked a merchant.

“You must wait, and see,” said Otto.

“You are listening to me, are you not?” Otto inquired of the prostrate Farrix.

“Yes!” said Farrix. “Do not stir the horses. You do not know them. The slightest signal might stampede them.”

“This is interesting,” said a merchant.

“I think so,” said Otto.

“What do you want?” whispered Farrix.

“Your men are about,” said Otto, “or will soon be about, with prisoners. They may be here now, somewhere in the crowd. Call out to them. Tell them to come here, unbind the prisoners, and submit themselves for binding with the same ropes.”

“Why should I do that?” said Farrix.

“I am prepared to start the horses,” said Otto.

“Wait!” said Farrix. “Einar, Eserich! To me!”

Shortly thereafter, though Farrix need call twice, his men, with their bound prisoners, made their way through the crowd to rendezvous with their chief. And a bit after that, Julian, Tuvo Ausonius, and Rurik were freed of their ropes, which were then transferred to the limbs of the two fellows we suppose must have been Einar and Eserich.

Rurik's slave, Cornhair, her wrists bound behind her, and on a leash, it now dangling from her leather leash collar, had been brought along, apparently to witness the proceedings, and absorb a lesson as to what might be the fate of a slave who might prove to be less than fully pleasing. There were bruises on her arms, legs, and face. She now knelt near Rurik, her head down.

“Free me, now,” said Farrix. “I have had done what you asked.”

One of the horses began to scratch at the turf with its clawed paw.

“It is getting restless,” said Otto. “I suspect it is waiting for the signal.”

“If one bolts, the others will bolt,” said Farrix. “They have been used in this place before!”

“Why is the slave bruised?” asked Otto of Rurik.

“She was reluctant to afflict me with the torture of the lascivious slave girl,” said Rurik.

“She would arouse you while you were helpless, for the sport of your captors, that they might jeer you,” said Otto.

“Yes,” said Rurik.

“Do not stir the horses!” said Farrix.

“She was slow to obey the command of a free man?” said Otto.

“Yes,” said Rurik.

“But she saw reason,” said Otto.

“Even after being struck, she was reluctant,” said Rurik.

“Apparently she thinks little enough of her life,” said Otto.

“She obeyed quickly enough when I cast upon her my frown,” said Rurik. “Slaves are not to dally or be disobedient. Such is cause for discipline.”

“The torture of the lascivious slave girl,” said Otto, “is most effective when the slave hates the man, and relishes her control over him, and how she may force him to writhe, yield, and explode at her pleasure, as though it were he in a collar, and not she.”

“It is effective only when she has Masters behind her, to support and protect her,” said Rurik, “for she is, and remains, only a woman and a slave.”

“I would not be the slave who falls into the power of the man whom she so enjoyed abusing,” said Otto.

“Cornhair's heart was not in her work,” said Rurik.

“Of course not,” said Otto. “You are her Master. She knows it is she, and not you, who are to be controlled, grasped, owned, mastered, handled, caressed, and put to pleasure.”

“That reminds me,” said Rurik. “The slave was slow to obey the command of a free man. That is cause for discipline.”

“The horses, the horses,” whispered Farrix. “Free me!”

Rurik then seized the hair of the kneeling slave, and yanked up her bowed head. “You were slow to obey the command of a free man,” he said.

“Forgive me, Master,” she said.

He then cuffed her, sharply, twice.

“Thank you, Master,” she said, went to her belly, and pressed her lips to his boot.

“She knows you are pleased with her,” said Otto. “She is very pleased.”

“I do not understand what is going on,” said a merchant. “I understand this is staged, that it is an entertainment, and all, but I do not understand the entertainment. Should this supine gentleman and the others not now free themselves, somehow, of the ropes, or be rescued, or such?”

“I trust the ropes are not truly tied,” said another.

“I think there is danger,” said another.

“Dismiss the thought,” said Otto.

“Horses are dangerous,” said another.

“Surely you cannot mean these,” said Otto. “Surely you cannot suppose that we might risk these nice fellows. Surely these beasts are as gentle, mild, and sweetly tempered as they are large.”

“Of course,” said a merchant.

“That is obvious,” said another.

“Where is the food?” asked another.

Otto then knelt near Farrix and, with a knife, taken from a guard who would not be likely to miss it for some time, the very fellow dragged within the hall of Ingeld, cut one of the ropes which bound Farrix to the harness of one of the horses.

“Do not speak loudly or quickly,” said Farrix.

Otto then severed a second rope.

“You will never escape,” said Farrix.

“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But I have seen to it that the ship is in readiness.”

“You will never reach the ship,” said Farrix.

“The camp guard is uninformed,” said Otto. “They know nothing of what has transpired here.”

“There is no way in which you can reach the ship,” said Farrix.

“Perhaps not,” said Otto. “But what if there was a distraction, if a crowd was alarmingly disbanded, if many men, perhaps two hundred, with retainers, domicile slaves, and such, were rushing about, here and there, many in confusion, perhaps in panic.”

“But they are not,” said Farrix.

Otto then severed the third rope, and stood up.

This left one rope in place, that on the left ankle of Farrix.

“Cut the last rope,” said Farrix.

Otto looked down upon him, and smiled.

“No!” cried Farrix.

Otto's sudden cry startled not only the horses but all those about him. The four horses sped away, in the four directions. But they met little or no resistance. It was not as they expected; it was not even like drawing a plow through Lion grass, or tearing a way through the vinelike Malik growth, or drawing the stump of the Farn tree from the earth. There was no exertion, no digging in, and then the tearing, and then the breaking free. Three of the horses, the ropes dangling behind them, raced away, unencumbered, plunging through the crowd, buffeting bodies aside like bundles of robed straw, and the fourth, too, raced way, scarcely less unencumbered, dragging its tethered burden, rolling and tumbling, by an ankle, plowing its own fresh, broad furrow through the surprised, festive thong. There was much crying out, screaming, and protesting. Soon the awareness that loose, hastening, uncontrolled beasts were abroad reached to the very edges of the crowd, which began to scatter.

“To the ships, to the ships!” cried Otto.

The horses themselves were doubtless confused. Two, beyond the crowd, turned about and, to the consternation of many, milling about, proceeded to make their way back to the point of their departure, that to which their harness managers had always returned them. The other two, including that which was conveying Farrix about, once clear of the crowd, unmanaged and undriven, perhaps unnerved or frightened by the many bodies about, the cries, the fluttering robes, began to race about, through the compound.

“Seek safety in the ships!” cried Otto.

Certainly several of those about heeded this recommendation, which was soon, voice by voice, broadcast throughout the compound, rather as Otto had anticipated.

At this point, Otto, Julian, Tuvo Ausonius, and Rurik joined the many merchants, retainers, and domicile slaves bent on reaching the ships, Cornhair, bound, the leash dangling from the leash collar, hurrying behind them.

In the ships there was indeed safety, rather as behind the safety wall in an arena, where bulls and
torodonts
are hunted.

The advice which Otto had offered to the multitude, it seems, had been sound, and, certainly, happily, it had been well received.

Before boarding, from the boarding ladder leading to the second hatchway, Otto paused and looked back.

The compound was now nearly deserted, save for some soldiers and grooms. Three of the horses were quiet, some men about them. One of the horses was being unharnessed. The fourth horse was more unruly, or skittish, perhaps because of its unforeseen impediment, perhaps not fully understood, an object attached to it by a rope. The horse moved about, skittishly. In a bit, three grooms had managed to turn it about, and close with it, and seize its harnessing. They freed it of its burden, which tried to rise to its feet, stood unsteadily for a moment, and then collapsed into the arms of a groom.

Otto then entered the ship, and the hatch was closed behind him.

Shortly thereafter, about the time several of the merchants, and their fellows, the danger, it seems, now past, were preparing to leave their ships and return to the compound, one ship, to the surprise of many, departed, leaving behind it the fields and forests of lovely Tenguthaxichai.