“I think we have met before,” said Ortog.
“Yes,” said Julian.
“You are an officer in the imperial navy,” said Ortog, “but, I take it, no ordinary officer. I saw you on the Alaria, and noted your place of honor, and the deference accorded to you.”
“Who is he, milord?” inquired his shieldsman.
“As you see,” said Ortog, “a worthless dog, clad in rags.”
“Milord?” said the clerk.
“He has some relation to the imperial family,” said Ortog. “I am sure of it.”
Men gasped. Some even stepped back, so dreaded and awesome seemed the mysterious empire. It was one thing to mock and scorn the empire, but they were only too well aware of its power. Seldom would they stand against its ships. It would not have occurred to them to meet it in force. Its history, its deeds, its terrors, its terribleness, loomed large in their imagination and fears. One of the most potent defenses of the empire was its simple presence, so extensive and subtle, looming so mightily in titanic legend.
“Rope him, like a pig, and put him on his knees,” said Ortog.
Julian was rudely seized and bound, and thrown on his knees before Ortog.
Men breathed easier.
“You were, when last I saw you, as I recall, leveling a pistol at me, on an imperial ship,” said Ortog to Julian.
“Unfortunately,” said Julian, “I did not receive an opportunity to fire.”
It was at that time that the ship had been first struck by the pursuing Ortung fleet.
“I think you will bring an excellent ransom,” said Ortog.
Otto had not attempted to interfere with Julian’s discomfiture.
He did not care to be diverted from his purpose.
“The challenge has been issued,” Otto reminded Ortog.
“That is true, milord,” said the clerk to Ortog.
“On our camp world,” said Ortog to Julian, “you will tend pigs, but, as you are of high birth, your chains will be of gold.”
“On what world do you think it would be appropriate for your sister to be sold as a slave girl?” asked Otto.
Ortog regarded him, irritably.
“Her particular form of beauty might bring a higher or lower price on certain worlds,” speculated Otto.
This was true. Certain worlds preferred blondes, and certain worlds redheads, and so on. The princess Gerune was, as we have noted, blond. This tended to be a popular hair color on many worlds, for slaves.
“Take him away,” said Ortog, pointing to Julian. “It will take some time to arrange for his ransom.”
Julian was dragged to his feet, and rudely conducted, stumbling, from the tent.
“Secure recognition for us,” said a man, pleading, from the side.
“Such a recognition, by tribal custom, must carry weight even with your father, Abrogastes,” said a man.
“Accept the challenge,” urged the clerk.
“Accept the challenge,” urged the shieldsman, he with the golden helmet in his grasp.
“Accept the challenge,” pressed others.
Ortog regarded Otto, evenly. “The challenge, of course,” he said, “is accepted.”
CHAPTER 8
The blade of the adz, the larger adz, one of the sort with which we are concerned here, is better than a foot in length. The handle, in which the blade is fixed, socketed, crosswise, is some four feet, or approximately so, in length. It can be wielded efficiently only by a very strong man, or a creature of some comparable, or greater, strength. This instrument has a place in the traditions of numerous peoples, in particular, as one would suppose, those of the forests. Indeed, the adz, as the ax and the spear, and, later, the sword, is, in a sense, a symbol of such peoples.
The particular adz we have in mind is now enclosed in a leather case. In the same compartment in which we find the adz, on a shallow bronze plate, and covered with a purple cloth, was a heavy, sturdy, muchly scarred, peeled stump, indeed, one which had been brought, some time ago, from the home world of the Alemanni peoples.
We beg the indulgence of the reader, in reminding him of these things.
It may also be recalled, though it is not recounted in this manuscript, that some days ago, while Hendrix and Gundlicht were entertained in the hut of Otto, chieftain of the Wolfungs, one of their radios, that of the Ortungs, was surreptitiously used to broadcast a message to an imperial fleet, supposed to be in the quadrant, presumably having come in response to distress calls from the Alaria, which vessel had been destroyed after the Ortungs had taken their leave of her.
One of the risks of transmitting such a message, of course, is that one does not know who or what may hear it.
This message had, in fact, been overheard.
The vessels, however, did not turn toward Varna, which was speculated to be its source.
Their objective was other than Varna.
They themselves traveled in radio silence.
CHAPTER 9
“I have been sent to you, and have been commanded to address you as ‘Milord’,” she said.
The two warriors, behind her, withdrew from the threshold of the waiting tent, closing the flap behind her.
She was enveloped in a dark cloak and hood, and her head was down. She spoke softly.
Otto could barely hear her.
He approached her and brushed back the hood, and she raised her head.
“Gerune!” he cried.
“Yes,” she said, angrily.
“It is the princess,” said Julian. His limbs were confined in chains of gold.
“You stink of swine,” she said to him, angrily.
Julian had been permitted to come to the tent of Otto, that he might there, on the morrow, render him service, that in the manner of the second. Otto had brought none other with him, that by his own will.
“Why have you been brought to the tent?” asked Julian.
Gerune looked at him, in fury.
Then she lifted her chin, disdainfully, as Otto undid the string at the throat of the cloak and, gently, parted it, and lifted it back.
Gerune was quite beautiful.
About her neck, on a string, was a tiny key.
“Do not dare to look upon me!” Gerune hissed to Julian.
But his eyes marveled at her loveliness, relishing it in the full, exciting glory of masculine passion.
Gerune could not resist, had she been so minded, the lifting away of the dark cloak.
Otto put the cloak over his arm, and turned her about. Her tiny wrists were confined behind her body, in the delicate, tasteful, but efficient, inflexible cuffs of a female slave.
Doubtless it was to these devices that the tiny key at her throat, on its string, answered.
“It seems your brother thinks highly of you,” said Otto.
“I have shamed the Ortungs,” she said.
“It is for that that you have been sent here, on this night,” said Otto.
“Yes,” she said. “It is my punishment. I am to serve you, as might a female slave. Then, suitably chastened, after the morrow’s combat, I am to be sequestered, put from public view, and, though free, will be less free even than a female slave.”
“It is unfortunate,” said Julian. “You would make an excellent female slave.”
“Dog!” she cried.
“You are a woman,” said Julian. “You would learn quickly enough, under the whip.”
She viewed him with fury.
“Naked dog!” she snarled.
Julian was not naked but his tunic had been muchly torn away, considerably baring the young aristocrat’s form. This had amused the herders in whose keeping he had been placed.
“Naked, chained dog,” she snarled.
His wrists were before his body, confined in golden manacles. His ankles were shackled, in shackles of gold, these joined by a short chain, that, too of gold.