Barbarian of Gor Chapter Twenty Four

 

Rolfe reached the top of the summit and took a moment to gaze directly at me with an ambiguous expression.

 

“Roland,” he said, after a slight pause.

 

“Rolfe,” I said back. “It is good to see you, brother.”

 

“No it isn’t,” said Rolfe. His heavy shield was already unslung from his shoulders and he had it gripped with his left arm. “I see you have fallen in with new sword brothers.” His eyes regarded Adam and Felix, seemingly sizing them up.

 

“They are good men, Rolfe,” I began. “This is Adam, and this is…”

 

“Their names are irrelevant,” said Rolfe, cutting me off. “I do not need to be introduced to men who will soon be dead.”

 

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We had some short time to prepare ourselves as the warriors approached the hill of Slaver’s Point on which the ancient stones stood. 

 

“Chain the slaves to the rings set into the stones,” said Adam as he watched the three men closing in on our position. “Put them on display, and then gag them.”

 

“Laetitia won’t like being displayed,” I suggested.

 

“No, she won’t. But I don’t want any of them to interfere in what’s going to happen. And I don’t want any of them shouting out who they are.”

 

I chained Ana, the slave formerly known as Svetlana, to the first of the display rings hammered into the standing stones. I raised her bound wrists and fastened them to the heavy iron ring so that her body was stretched and on display to anyone who might approach the hill. 

 

“Give us to Rolfe,” she said as I secured her restraints. “Beg for mercy and you’ll be spared. I will speak for you Roland.”

 

“Be quiet, Ana.” I paced a rough gag in her mouth and tied it tightly behind her head. She mumbled and mewled, made silent now by the thick pressure of the thick wadding pressing down on her tongue, forcing her mouth open in a cramped position. Such a gag is effective but distinctly uncomfortable for the slave concerned. 

 

Misa was next – the slave formerly known as Mishka – the slave I had deflowered the night before. 

 

She was more compliant in my hands. She had already been mastered and was beginning to understand how her subsequent life might be in the hands of men. 

 

“Please, I won’t cry out,” she said as I secured her wrists, too, to the heavy ring hammered high above her head. 

 

“I know you won’t, Misa, for you’ll be gagged.” And so she was.

 

Nia – the slave who was once the proud, haughty, fierce, and cruel Lady Livinnia of the Assante – tried to struggle as I took her from the Harl ring arrangement towards another of the stones. She struck at me and I was forced to press her down onto the grassy ground and twist her arm behind her back until she cried out. “I’m stronger than you, Nia. We’re all stronger than you. I don’t have time to whip you now, but if you struggle again you will be whipped when I have time. Do you want to be whipped?”

“No,” She hissed.

 

“No, what?” I said.

 

“I am not a slave! I am a captive!”

 

“No, what?” She screamed again as I applied more pressure to her wrist, twisting her arm to the point where her joints were protesting in agony.

 

“No, Master!” The words were bitter and resentful, but she spoke them. I eased my pressure.

 

“Who is stronger?” I asked.

 

“You are, Master!”

 

“Who is weaker?”

 

“I am!” she cried. My grip was still painful.

 

“Who is weaker?” I asked again. 

 

“Nia!” she cried.

 

I lifted the proud, haughty, fierce and cruel girl from the grass and marched her to the stone. 

 

“Rolfe will kill you,” she snarled.

 

I secured her wrists to the slave ring set high into that stone. The effect lifted her breasts and pulled her body taut. It is a simple yet effective display position for slaves. 

 

I had not yet enjoyed Nia in my furs. I had not mastered her, the way I had mastered the lovely Misa. I had not taught her what it is to actually serve a man in the furs. She remained, in her mind at least, the proud warrior woman – the huntress of men -who rode on kaiila back across the grass steppes. Adam felt she must be left untouched in case we needed to deal with Stannis, her companion. 

 

And Adam was in command.

 

“You are just a woman,” I said, “And women are the weaker sex.”

 

“I hate you!” she snarled. I watched her struggle with her bound wrists against the slave ring. She shifted the weight of her body from one foot to the other but was securely held there. I brushed her hair – now cut into the lovely flame shape common to slaves – from her shoulders. I ran my fingers down her breasts.

 

“Don’t touch me, male!”

 

I think she sensed that Adam wouldn’t permit me to put her to use in the furs. That gave her a degree of reckless courage and aggression, still. 

 

“You won’t always be our last bargaining chip with Stannis,” I told her. “In Torcadino we will no longer need such a security.”

 

“You will never reach Torcadino! Rolfe will…”

 

I pressed the gag deep into her mouth and tied it tightly behind her head. Now she was silent. I watched her breathe heavily through her nose, struggling to compensate for the closure of her mouth. 

 

“Without your fighting leathers, now that you are stripped naked, Nia, you look every inch like prime slave stock.”

 

She tried to speak but couldn’t. I watched her struggle again with her wrists helplessly bound to the slave ring.

 

And then it was Dana’s turn – the soft, pliant girl who had once been Danata. She offered no resistance for she was still injured and weak from her wound. She meekly permitted me to chain her and then gag her. 

 

Now only Kayra – the Tatrix’s young daughter, formerly known as Laetitia - remained. She looked justifiably alarmed as I turned to regard her.

 

“No!” she said, backing away. “There is no need! I’m not going to cry out to the men!”

 

“I’m sorry, Kayra,”I said as I advanced upon her.

 

“Stop calling me Kayra! I don’t want to be called Kayra! It’s not my name!”

 

I took Kayra by her right wrist and led her to another of the ancient standing stones. “At least spare me the gag. I don’t need the gag.”

 

I raised and secured Kayra’s wrists and then produced another gag.

 

“You can’t do this! You can’t do this!” She seemed to be in shock as I lifted the gag to her mouth. The wadding was thick, brutal and ugly. It would force her jaws open and press down on her tongue, rendering speech impossible. “My mother would not permit this! She would not…”

 

I forced the wadding into Kayra’s mouth and secured it tight. Tears ran down her face as she now breathed heavily through her nostrils. Her wrists shook against the slave ring. 

 

“This will be over quickly, Kayra,” I assured her. 

 

Her eyes remained wild over her gag.

 

“The slaves are secured,” I said as I returned to where Adam stood, conversing with Felix. The slaves looked beautiful, chained as they were, displayed on the summit of the hill, secured to the standing stones and facing outwards where travellers might see them silhouetted against the sky for many pasangs in every direction. 

 

Adam nodded. He seemed even more intense than usual. “And you know what you’re doing? With these men, I mean?”

 

“They were friends,” I said. “More than that – we were sword brothers.”

 

“And you think that gives us a chance to avoid fighting?” His eyes narrowed as he watched my reaction.

 

“I truly don’t know, Adam. We didn’t part on the best of terms, but I find it hard to believe they would actually try to kill me.”

 

“Do whatever it takes,” said Adam. “You are of Corcyrus now. You have pledged your sword to its walls and its Tatrix.”

 

“The Tatrix has my word,” I said.

 

And then we simply stood there and waited; waited for Rolfe, Rollo and Hergessvar to join us at the summit of the stones. 

 

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“I don’t want to fight you, Rolfe,” I said as I gestured with the open palms of my hands. Adam stood some way back, to my right, and Felix stood closer, on my left.

 

“Of course you don’t,” said Rolfe. “Because you’d lose.”

 

“We were brothers,” I said.

 

“Aren’t you going to even pretend you don’t have the Tatrix’s daughter?” asked Rolfe as he gazed at the slaves secured to the standing stones. “Which one is she?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

 

“And there we have it,” said Rolfe with a sense of bitter disappointment. “You have chosen a side.”

“You chose a side, too,” I said. “But you are a mercenary. I am defending a Home Stone.”

 

That meant something, and for a moment I saw Rolfe’s expression change. “You have a Home Stone?”

 

“Corcyrus. They took me in. They gave me bread and salt. They gave me citizenship.”

 

Rolfe nodded. 

 

“But Argentum is not your Home Stone, Rolfe. You are men of Kassau, on the coast of the Northern Forest. Kassau is not at war with Corcyrus.”

 

“I have taken pay,” said Rolfe. “I, too, have given my word.”

 

“Let’s talk about honour, Rolfe, because honour is important here. What happens when a man has two conflicting oaths? What happens when a man has an oath to his Sword Brother and an oath to a military contract? Which is more important when they clash?”

 

“You walked away from us, Roland. You are not our Sword Brother.”

 

“I never forsook you, Rolfe. I would never do that. I meant every word I said when I said you were my brother. We simply let a slave come between us.”

“And where is she?” asked Rolfe. “Where is she now? Where is your slave, Kelsee?”

 

“Back in Argentum. Safe.”

 

“And your companion? Where is Kulai?”

 

“I am sorry, Rolfe. I failed her and it will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

 

“Then why are you still alive? Why are you not seeking vengeance, whatever the price?”

 

“I am not perfect, Rolfe. I’m an Earthman. In time I will try and…”

 

“You have very little time left, Roland.” Rolfe’s gaze regarded the solemn figures of Felix and Adam again. 

 

“There are three of us and three of you, Rolfe. We appear to be evenly matched. There would be deaths on both sides. Needless deaths.”

 

“You have three swords, yes, but that man there,” Rolfe pointed at Adam, “is not of the scarlet, and nor are you. You have one warrior. We are three. The numbers do not lie.”

 

"Rolfe, please…”

 

“The huntresses rode ahead of us,” said Rolfe. “Have you encountered them?” He pointedly didn’t look at the naked women chained by their wrists to slave rings set into the standing stones.

 

“No, they didn’t come this way.”

 

“I see. They didn’t come this way.” He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Svetlana and I will soon be Free Companions, Roland. We will drink the wine of Free Companionship shortly after this is over.”

 

“My congratulations, Rolfe. I am proud to have helped you in that regard. That night of my Free Companionship when you tied the ribbon of courtship into Svetlana’s hair will always be a moment I shall cherish.”

 

Rolfe nodded. “In the Spring, when this war is over, and Corcyrus has fallen, Svetlana will bear me children. I will have a son to carry my name.”

 

I nodded. We were both only too aware of the naked slaves on display around us. “Children are the future,” I agreed. 

 

“I love Svetlana,” said Rolfe. His eyes met mine. “Do you know where she is?”

 

I felt Adam shift position slightly, some distance behind me, on my right. I think he was considering whether any of this might still be salvageable.

 

“Rolfe…”

 

“You have five slaves, I see.” Rolfe still did not look at them.

 

“I am a slaver now, Rolfe. That is my caste and business. I enslave women and then I sell them.”

 

Rolfe said nothing.

 

“I am sure Svetlana is safe,” I added.

 

One of the slaves chained to the iron rings began to moan piteously though her gag as she struggled against her bonds. 

 

“One of your slaves is restless,” said Rolfe.

 

“I will deal with her later. She knows she is supposed to be on display.”

 

“One might think she is trying to attract my attention,” said Rolfe.

 

The slave writhed against the stone, pulling her body as far from the iron ring as she could. Again she mewled through her gag.

 

“She is supposed to be on display, enticing travellers but she is new to her collar.”

 

“I see,” said Rolfe. 

 

I watched as he walked towards the struggling girl. Her mewling grew louder, but remained unintelligible as Rolfe approached. Again and again she pulled frantically at her chained wrists. She shook her head and tried to speak to Rolfe.

 

One thing you should understand is that the girl now looked very different from the way she had done as a Huntress. Rolfe would be familiar with her hair bound in a ribbon. Every day he would see her wearing hunting leathers and mannish garments. There would certainly be no slave cosmetics artfully reshaping her features. And it is worth stressing that a naked girl – particularly one adorned as a slave – tends to seem like smaller, slighter, submissive figure than she might have been as a free woman. The riding boots commonly worn by a huntress would add a couple of inches to her height. The artfully arranged hair, piled high above her head and secured by ribbons would add another inch or so. And the leathers would add some bulk to her body. All those illusions were now gone. This girl seemed soft, weak, vulnerable, but erotically so. Now her slave curves would be obvious. Rolfe’s eyes would see her breasts and hips, rather than the woman she might once have been. Her hair, too, was now cut in the beautiful flame shape of a slave’s typical style. Her eyes were deeply lined with kohl  so they smouldered above her gag. And the gag acted a bit like a veil, obscuring some of her lower features, which was the secondary reason why Adam had insisted on gags. Rolfe had clearly expected to identify his Svetlana, but now he hesitated, seemed unsure of himself. This couldn’t possibly be Svetlana. Not this soft, slight, slave girl. He knew Svetlana. This wasn’t Svetlana. It couldn’t possibly be Svetlana. 

 

The girl mewled piteously again as Rolfe stared at her. 

 

“She was travelling along the Corcyrus/Torcadino road, some eighty pasangs back,” I remarked, acting as if I had nothing to fear from him inspecting her. “She was a scribe who had seen better days. Her name is Ana.”

 

I could see that Rolfe was having difficulty in recognising the girl. He looked for things that were no longer there.

 

“I thought…” began Rolfe.

 

“You are my Sword Brother. I would never have displayed Svetlana before you so. Is that what you thought?”

 

The girl of course was not Svetlana. She was a slave called Ana. Svetlana no longer existed. I had not technically lied.

 

“This isn’t my companion,” said Rolfe, as he shook his head, embarrassed to have made that mistake.

 

The mewling continued.

 

The girl’s attempts to free her wrist intensified.

 

“She is shorter than Svetlana by a few inches,” I pointed out. “Her hair, too, is very different. And are those the eyes of your beloved?”

 

“They are not Svetlana’s eyes,” agreed Rolfe as he gazed at the kohl lined eyes of a kajira.

 

“I would have been a fool to display her so brazenly if she was Svetlana,” I said. “Give me some credit.”

 

“Be quiet, said Rolfe to the near hysterical slave. He seemed angry that the slave had tried to implore him for aid. She was obviously new to the collar and still coming to terms with what had been done to her on the road to Torcadino. But he didn’t know her, and he owed her nothing. She wasn’t even a woman of Kassau.

 

Again the girl mewled through her gag and tried to pull her wrists free.

 

“I said quiet,” snapped Rolfe. “Must I take a switch to your thighs, girl?”

 

She began crying but lay there now, her naked back pressed against the rough stone, seemingly in disbelief that Rolfe did not know her. 

 

Rolfe walked back to where I stood, giving the display slaves no further attention. 

 

“They are fresh captures,” I said truthfully. “No doubt thinking passing warriors will save them. In time they will come to know they are women. And women belong in the collar.”

 

Rolfe grunted his assent. 

 

“Are we good?” I asked Rolfe.

 

“One of them is the daughter of the Tatrix. Give her to us.”

 

“I can’t do that, Rolfe. I have sworn an oath to my Home Stone.”

 

“Can you feel them, Roland?” asked Rolfe. His eyes seemed to observe the sky. “The Gods are here with us today. The Gods appreciate the tragedy of what has happened. They are drawn to tragedy. Odin and Thor will judge us all today. Fight honourably and, when I kill you – and I will kill you – I will ensure you die with the hilt of your blade in your right hand. We will meet again in Valhalla in the feasting halls, and we will be brothers again. We will drink, laugh, and fuck slaves together. You have my word.”

 

“Rolfe, please, don’t…” 

 

“I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” I watched as Rolfe drew his blade and saluted me with it, holding the flat of it before his face, as Rollo and Hergessvar silently drew their own blades. “And now it begins.”

 

I barely had my right hand on the hilt of my own sword when a loud bang echoed across the windswept summit. I saw Rolfe thrown backwards as a second loud bang followed the first. Rolfe’s body twisted with a second impact and then he was down, his sword falling from his hand.

 

I barely had time to look before there was a third bang, and now Hergessvar was thrown backwards. Rollo ran forwards, sword raised, until a fourth bang knocked him to the ground, too.

 

And there Adam stood, several yards behind me, to my right, holding a smoking handgun between both hands.