In moments the slave, stripped, her wrists crossed and bound, and fastened over her head, to a stout, overhanging branch, that her beauty might be protected, that she might not be dashed against a post or tree trunk, was in whip position.
She looked wildly back at Cabot. “Have I not been pleasing?” she asked. “I have tried to be pleasing, my Master!"
"The whip has been uncoiled,” he said.
She moaned.
"Hark!” said a Kur, suddenly, lifting his paw.
Lord Grendel sprang to his feet.
"Someone is coming!” said a Kur.
Cabot cast the whip to the dirt.
All eyes turned toward the gate of the small camp.
A voice came through the palings. It was registered on Cabot's translator. “For Lord Arcesilaus,” it said.
"It is Lord Flavion,” said Grendel. “Open the gate!"
Flavion, armed, staggered into the camp. Behind him straggled a dozen or more humans, some helmeted, all garmented in cloth.
"Peisistratus!” exclaimed Cabot.
The two men embraced.
"You are injured,” said Cabot.
"Death, power weapons, fire, the screaming,” said Peisistratus.
Cabot put his arms about him, and lowered him to the ground. The other humans entered the camp, haggard, pale, filthy, with torn clothing, some bloodied, and bandaged, two supported by their fellows. With them were four female slaves, including Peisistratus’ Corinna.
"The pleasure cylinder has been breached,” said Peisistratus. “We emerged, four hundred of us, surrendered, to avail ourselves of the amnesty."
"Wise,” said Cabot.
"No, no,” whispered Peisistratus. “We gave up our weapons and were directed toward the theater of amnesty, but we delayed our entry. We did not wish to do so, but we were weak, starving, and several amongst us were wounded. We were on the hill overlooking the theater. In it must have been two thousand, or more, Kurii, humans."
"Yes,” said Cabot. “Joined, for the pledging of blood and honor to Agamemnon."
"Then the weapons began to fire,” said Peisistratus. “The theater itself seemed a furnace of flames. They were cut down, burned alive, from all sides. We could see the blackened bodies, crowded together, bursting and smoking, smell the flesh."
"It is enough,” said Lord Grendel. “It is enough."
"That is the amnesty of Agamemnon,” said a Kur.
"In that cauldron,” said a Kur, “would have been brethren, folk of our camp, who fought with us, our brothers, who trusted the word of Agamemnon."
"Now,” said a Kur, “I am no longer afraid to die."
"There were four hundred with you?” said Cabot.
"Some such number,” said Peisistratus, his head down.
"There are few here,” said Cabot.
"We fled, unarmed,” said Peisistratus. “We knew we would be sought. In the forest we encountered noble Flavion, who brought us here."
"There were four hundred?” said Cabot.
"Flavion rallied us, and reassured us,” said Peisistratus. “He bade us wait until he had scouted a passage which might be traversed with security. We waited."
"How long?” asked Cabot.
Persistratus shrugged. “I do not know,” he said. “Four ahn, five, I do not know."
"What then?"
"Noble Flavion, our rescuer and guide, returned, and we began our trek."
"There were four hundred,” pressed Cabot.
"Alas,” said Flavion, in Kur distress, though the voice emerged quietly enough, precisely, as always, on Cabot's translator. “We were ambushed in a defile, cut to pieces. Only the head of the column, I fear, I and some others, these, who had already exited the defile, survived."
"You were fortunate,” said Cabot.
"Surely more so than others,” came from Cabot's translator.
"Welcome to our camp,” said Lord Grendel to Peisistratus and his fellows, and beasts. “Rest, and feed."
"In the theater,” said Cabot, to Peisistratus, “all were slain?"
"Yes,” said Peisistratus. “Kur, male and female, and human, male and female."
"Even your beasts, your female slaves?” asked Cabot.
"All,” said Peisistratus, dismally.
"It would be the way of Agamemnon,” said a Kur.
"He is thorough,” said another.
Cabot turned slowly about, and went to where his own beast, the girl, Lita, was fastened, her wrists crossed, and bound, over her head.
"You heard?” he asked.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"It seems I will not return you to the habitats,” said Cabot.
"A girl rejoices,” she whispered.
"It would be a waste of beast,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said. “Master."
"Yes?” he said.
"Your whip was uncoiled."
Cabot reached down and retrieved the whip, and then, slowly folding its blades back, against the staff, he touched it, gently, to her back.
"My Master has beaten me,” she said.
"Yes,” said Cabot, wearily.
She turned her head, and pursed her lips, pleadingly, and Cabot held the whip to her lips, and she kissed it, gratefully, fervently.
He then untied her and, retrieving her tunic, tossed it to her. “Help with the food,” he said. “And prepare places of repose. Our guests must eat, and will then wish to rest."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"I would speak to you,” said Lord Grendel to Tarl Cabot.
Cabot joined him, to the side.
"Do you not find it surprising,” asked Lord Grendel, “that the route of the fugitives was so accurately and promptly descried?"
"Doubtless a tragic fortuity,” said Cabot.
"Do you believe that?” asked Lord Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot.
"Nor do I,” said Lord Grendel. “My friend."
"Yes?” said Cabot.
"I believe Lord Agamemnon has made his first, and greatest, mistake,” said Grendel.
"How is that?” asked Cabot.
"The profession of the amnesty,” said Grendel, “and then the massacres."
"Was it not clever?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel. “For it is not Kur."
"Many would suppose it was very Kur,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel. “It was not Kur."
Chapter, the Fifty-First:
A CAVE IS FOUND EMPTY
"He is not here,” said Cabot.
Peisistratus had been left in charge of the humans in the camp of Lord Grendel's band, and Statius, who had once been no more than a despised nondominant, had been deputized to command the Kurii of the camp, and, as he was Kur, was sovereign in the camp.
Lord Grendel and Cabot had trekked about Lake Fear, on its nearer side to the habitats, in order to recover and burn the remains of Lord Arcesilaus, whom they had expected to find dead in the cave in which they had left him, long ago, sorely wounded, but, too, to replenish a supply of weapon points, for themselves, at least. Many of the humans had now accustomed themselves to the bow, of one strength or another, but there was a considerable shortage of suitable headings for these missiles, many now being merely sharpened sticks, fletched. Some heads had been made from stone and bent, folded bits of metal, but such expedients were makeshift, at best. A classical stone for such purposes, reasonably convenient to shape, was not available in the world, flint.
It had not been difficult for Lord Grendel and his human ally, Tarl Cabot, to locate the cave in which they had left Lord Arcesilaus, but, upon entering the cave, they had found it empty.
"Lord Arcesilaus bled here,” said Cabot, pointing to the rear of the cave.
"The stains are not fresh,” said Lord Grendel.
"Doubtless he died of his wounds, and animals, smelling blood and death, dragged the body from the cave,” said Cabot.
"Let us hope he was dead before they came upon him,” said Lord Grendel.
"There is no sign of a struggle,” said Cabot. “The vessels are muchly as we left them. There seem no marks in the floor dust."