"Agitated, disturbed,” said Statius.
"Something is amongst them!” said Cabot.
"Clearly,” said Statius.
Cabot then heard a cry from below, from one of the killer humans, who now pointed toward a portion of the herd, rather where the stirring had been remarked. He, and his fellow, then began to press more vigorously, more intently, roughly, amongst the gross, sluggish bodies of the herd.
Then Cabot, for the first time, heard the sound which had been noted earlier by Lord Grendel and Statius, and, at almost the same time, saw a small, struggling body in the grasp of one of the cattle humans, and he then heard the sound again, and again, as the small body was lifted and shaken in fury by its obese captor, the sound of the bell from the pens, the bell which the cattle humans were to unwittingly follow to the slaughter bench, and Lord Grendel, with a roar of rage, had sprung from the shelter of the trees, and was bounding, on all fours, on feet and knuckles of forepaws, in Kur haste, toward the herd.
The cattle human, massive even for a cattle human, doubtless the herd leader, soon noted the approach of a gigantic Kurlike figure moving toward him with great rapidity.
He instantly flung his prize, rolling to the grass, bell jangling, from him, and backed into the herd.
Cabot had little doubt Lord Grendel was intent upon tearing his throat out.
Lord Grendel stopped, though, at the edge of the herd, lifted his mighty arms, and roared, a Kur roar that echoed back from the cliffs beyond.
The two killer humans were not unaware of his arrival, and they, exchanging cries, something between speech and signals, ceased to prosecute their passage through the herd, and made their way back, almost as though through chest-high water, to the company of their colleagues, nearer the exit of the womb tunnel, and on the herd's far side.
At the same side the small figure freed by the massive cattle human, flung from him, regained its feet, and fled through the grass.
Lord Grendel was then between the fleeing figure and the herd, and, farther back, the killer humans.
Nothing moved from the herd, and the herd leader, bleating in fear, and protest, moved further back into the herd, using it as a wall to separate himself from the angry, hostile figure who was threateningly close.
Some of the herd held rocks, and three or four held branches, but none ventured to engage Lord Grendel.
Indeed, in moments, most of the beasts of the herd, in their doltish fashion, had returned to their pursuits, as though nothing had happened, scratching for grubs and worms, digging here and there to uncover edible roots. From the mouth of one dangled a small snake.
The killer humans, on the far side of the herd, had now congregated together, and were regarding Lord Grendel, who roared once more.
Cabot then, bow strung, an arrow to the string, a quiver at his hip, laden with the birds of death, emerged from the forest. So, too, did Statius.
Whereas the killer humans might, or might not, have surprised and attacked a single, preferably unarmed Kur, it was a different matter altogether to attack two who were aware, ready, and aroused. Also, although they did not themselves possess the bow, they understood it. They would not go against a bow with sticks, and certainly not across a distance, in full daylight.
Accordingly, the killer humans brought their neck-roped females to their feet, placed themselves between the females and the herd, and Lord Grendel, Cabot, and Statius, and, with a few cries and strokes of their sticks, herded them away, withdrawing behind them, with an occasional vigilant glance cast backward.
Lord Grendel stepped backward, and then looked about. He was still visibly agitated. His body shook. His nostrils flared, and fangs protruded, glistening with saliva.
Cabot was unwilling even to speak to him in his present state.
Lord Grendel crouched down, and fastened his paws in the grass. His mighty chest heaved, his head was down.
Then he lifted his head. “Where is she?” he asked.
"Gone,” said Cabot, looking about.
Lord Grendel uttered a long, strange noise, less of disappointment, or anger, as of the ventilation of some wracking agitation.
The small figure which had fled away, bell jangling, was blonde and shapely. Too, interestingly, its small wrists were pinioned behind her back.
"They would have killed her,” said Lord Grendel. “They would have cut her with stones, thrust sticks into her, broke her with rocks and clubs, chewed the skin from her bones."
"Understandably,” said Cabot. “Some, at least, would remember her from the pens."
The fugitive was, of course, the Lady Bina.
"It is surprising to find her here,” said Cabot. “I would have thought rather that she would have been silked, bejeweled, and veiled, and regally ensconced at the side of Agamemnon."
"How has she lived, thusly?” asked Lord Grendel, rising up, now again himself.
"Not well, I would suppose,” said Cabot.
"Her hands were held behind her, were they not?” asked Lord Grendel.
"Fastened there,” said Cabot, “in steel, in slave bracelets."
"I understand now the scratches in the cave, the print of the foot,” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “The print was doubtless hers, she having taken refuge in the tunnel, and the scratches were doubtless the results of her attempts to free herself of the light but effective impediments which constrained her."
"Stone will not conquer metal,” said Lord Grendel.
"And slave bracelets are not designed to be slipped by their occupant,” said Cabot. “They are manufactured to guarantee a female's utter helplessness."
"Doubtless such things are known to any slave,” said Lord Grendel.
"Sooner or later, surely,” said Cabot.
"They had to be put on her,” said Lord Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot, “but for what reason, and by whom?"
"How insulting,” said Lord Grendel, “that she, a free woman, should have been put in slave bracelets."
"Insulting, perhaps,” said Cabot. “But one notes that they will hold a free woman with the same perfection as a slave."
"It seems clear,” said Lord Grendel, “that she was in hiding, for some reason, and perhaps for some time, and was then discovered and flushed out of concealment by the killer humans."
"One can understand how she would seem an excellent catch for them, in their hunting of women. Indeed, they may have noted her, and been searching for her, for some time."
"She sought refuge amongst the cattle humans,” said Lord Grendel. “That must have taken great courage, for she has feared them, terribly, since the pens."
"Her act, I suspect,” said Cabot, “was one less of courage than of terror, of sudden and thoughtless desperation, an irrational flight at any cost to escape capture by the killer humans."
"It is true,” said Lord Grendel, “that we had attempted to assure her of the harmlessness of cattle humans."
"In that,” said Cabot, “we were mistaken. It might have been true once, but it seems untrue now. Some cattle humans in any event now arm themselves, however primitively, and attack others, and encroach on the feeding territories of others, and so on. Indeed, they have now exceeded, it seems, their former bovine placidity, now that they are not cared for, and fed. Now, it seems, they have learned cruelty, predation, and war."
"They are becoming more human,” said Lord Grendel.
"Or more Kur,” said Cabot.
Grendel looked about.
"The Lady Bina has again eluded us,” said Cabot. “She has escaped."
"Nonsense,” said Lord Grendel. “The trail is fresh. A Kur child could follow it."
There was, at that moment, a cry of Kur elation, and greeting, and Cabot and Lord Grendel turned about to see Statius approaching, dragging behind him, by means of a stout rope on her neck, stumbling, filthy, terrified, only the remnant of a stained tunic left to her, her wrists pinioned behind her in slave bracelets, the Lady Bina.