"That is not the voice of Agamemnon,” said Cabot.
"No, it is not,” said Lord Grendel. “I am pleased that you can discriminate amongst Kur speakers."
"Amongst some,” said Cabot, not altogether pleasantly.
"Still, it is an achievement for a human,” said Lord Grendel.
"Thank you,” said Cabot.
The voice, as it turned out, was that of one of Agamemnon's high lieutenants, that of he whom, for convenience of reference in Gorean, we named Lucullus. The message was simple, and direct. It was a summons for the rebels to surrender instantly, submit to the chains of prisoners, and await the mercy of Lord Agamemnon.
"They do not wish to risk approaching us,” said Statius, “while we have weapons, however few and inadequate they might be.” There were, at that time, seven power weapons in the trenches. An eighth weapon, we may recall, had been entrusted to the scout, Flavion.
"The trenches provide some cover,” said Archon.
"Not much,” said Lord Grendel. “This generous offer, I suspect, is motivated less by considerations of tactics, mercy, or military courtesy, than the desire to bring us helplessly and humiliatingly before Agamemnon's tribunal of retribution."
"Are you good at resisting prolonged and extreme tortures?” asked Statius of Cabot.
"I rather suspect not,” said Cabot.
"Would you like me, then, to kill you now, mercifully?” asked Statius.
"Not really,” said Cabot.
"My dear Statius,” said Lord Grendel, “there are sophisticated tortures available to Agamemnon to which even a Kur might object."
"Would you like me, then, to kill you now, mercifully?” asked Cabot of Statius.
"Forgive me, dear friend,” said Statius. “I trust you did not take offense. In a moment of weakness I thought of you more as human, and less as Kur."
"I am human,” said Cabot.
"What is human?” said Lord Grendel.
"Perhaps it would be churlish,” said Statius, “to deny Agamemnon his pleasures."
"There are limits to my civility,” said Cabot.
"And mine,” said Statius.
"And so what is to be done?” asked Archon.
"When they come to kill us, we shall meet them, as we can,” said Statius.
The message of Lucullus had now echoed several times throughout the valley, and no answer had arisen from the trenches.
Each time the message had seemed more severe, and less patient.
"Should we not respond?” asked Cabot.
"We are waiting,” said Lord Grendel.
"What for?” asked Statius.
"For victory,” said Lord Grendel.
"You are mad,” said a Kur. “Let us emerge from the trenches, and rush upon their weaponry, thus dying as befits Kurii."
"Wait,” said Lord Grendel.
"Look!” said Cabot.
Here and there, on one side or the other, some Kurii, and some humans, perhaps some twenty or thirty, emerged from the trenches and, weaponless, arms lifted in surrender, began to climb upward, toward the perimeters of the vale.
"Come back!” called Lord Grendel, and others, but their cries, if heard, were unheeded.
"Fools, fools,” said Lord Grendel. “Piteous, trusting fools!"
Those who had emerged from the trenches were allowed to climb almost to the very rim of the vale before the orders were given and they were incinerated on the slopes.
The light then began to dim, and soon, again, Cabot, and other humans, found themselves in practical darkness, save for some fires on the slopes, brief, soon-extinguished fires, marking places where the grass, here and there, in half circles of some yards, had been ignited by sheets of blazing, discharged weaponry.
"They realize now,” said Lord Grendel, “that we will not surrender."
"Their chains will remain empty,” said Statius.
"What is going on?” asked Cabot.
He sensed Lord Grendel rising in the trench, and looking about. “Yes,” he said.
"Yes,” said Statius.
"What is going on?” asked Cabot.
"They are coming now, from all sides,” said Lord Grendel. “They descend into the valley, in ranks, weapons leveled."
"We are lost,” said Cabot. “I failed."
"This is the moment,” said Lord Grendel. “They are intent on us. They are unaware. There is limited visibility, even for them. They have their backs to the vale's perimeter. They no longer have the height of the vale. They are caught between the height and the trenches."
"I cannot see!” said Cabot.
"Now! Now!” said Lord Grendel. “They are coming over the rim, hundreds, multiply armed. Dear Cabot, you were successful! The minions of Agamemnon are only now aware that there are others behind them."
Cabot could now hear cries of surprise, of questioning.
"They turn about! They are confused,” said Lord Grendel. “They do not know if they are friend or foe! They understand nothing! Perhaps they are reinforcements, additions to their numbers!"
Suddenly there were cries of rage, and the crackling, and streaming of weapons.
Lancets of fire cut through the darkness.
Cabot could hear the sounds of fighting, of grappling, the hiss of weaponry, the striking of blades, axes, doubtless, into shoulders and flesh.
"Rise from the trenches, attack, attack, Kur brothers!” called Lord Grendel, and his cries were echoed, from trench to trench, and coursed down the lengths of trenches, and Cabot, and the humans, confused, bewildered, were aware of mighty bodies, howling with cries of war, scrambling out of the trenches.
It was perhaps a quarter of an Ahn later that it began to grow light, again, gradually, and the routine of the world, adjusted to its timers, certain obstructive circuitries destroyed, returned to its normality.
Cabot, and other humans, wonderingly, slowly emerged from the trenches, to thread their way through soft, furrowed earth, soaked with blood, through seared grass and lost weapons, amongst fallen, scattered bodies, contorted and awry, some blackened by fire, others dismembered. Here and there lay a Kur, moaning, bleeding. Elsewhere a line of sullen Kurii, disarmed, were being fitted with chains.
Cabot sought out Lord Grendel.
"It is victory, is it not?” he asked.
"The tide is turned,” said Grendel. “Those from the small camps, the survivors of the fleet's disaster, in their hundreds, are now with us, and have armed themselves with the weapons of our foes. Lord Agamemnon is now on the defensive. For the first time we may hope for success."
"I am pleased,” said Cabot.
"It is to you we owe this victory,” said Lord Grendel.
"I did only as you advised,” said Cabot.
"It was to you that Lord Arcesilaus entrusted his ring,” said Lord Grendel.
"I know not why it was not to you,” said Cabot.
"You were the ideal herald of his hopes,” said Lord Grendel. “Were you not, in your way, proof that there might be amity betwixt allies, Kur and human? Too, you could make clear the value of human allies, and the nature of our common interests. That these species could be allied at all would astonish Kurii, and the more so that their alliance might prove fruitful. Who better in such a cause than a human warrior to bear to Kur warriors the ring of Arcesilaus, mightiest of Kurii, mightiest of the foes of Agamemnon?"
"I think,” said Cabot, ruefully, “that they might have been shamed to face a fellow Kur in such role, one still with pride and status, who did not share their dishonor and degradation. A lowly human, thus, I fear, might prove a less embarrassing visitor to their great gathering, that beyond the small camps, where they were to await the ropes or knives."
"Too,” said Lord Grendel, “with all due respect, I suspect few Kurii would care to soil themselves with such a mission, with contacting the defeated, the unworthy, ruined, and fallen."
"It was due to the ring,” said Cabot, “that I was enabled to enter their great camp, that of the gathering, engage their attention, and certify my authority to speak, and plead, on behalf of Lord Arcesilaus."