John Norman (50 page)

“I will help you,” said Ugly Girl, in hand talk.

Hamilton hugged her with joy.

“You need not come near their camp,” said Hamilton. “Just show me the way. Then I can go into the camp alone. You will not then be recaptured.”

Hamilton wondered if Tree would tie her and beat her, for not having returned sooner. She hoped he would not do so. She had done her best to return to his collar.

“I will go with you,” signed Ugly Girl. Then she looked at Hamilton. “Tooth,” she said, making the sound, saying the word in the language of the Men, as nearly as she could. Her face seemed strained with the effort.

“You like Tooth?” asked Hamilton. She recalled the prognathous-jawed giant, with the extended canine, so fearsome seeming, so much loving children, he who had been kind to Ugly Girl, of all the Men. “I care for him,” said Ugly Girl. “I love him.”

“But you are of another people,” said Hamilton.

“I love him,” she said, speaking the words in the language of the Men. It required effort. Sweat stood on her forehead. Then she reverted to hand sign. “Do you not want to be owned?” she signed, asking Hamilton a question which, in Hamilton’s time, would have been a forbidden question, one which one woman would scarcely dare to ask another, but which, in this honest time, was natural, a straightforward, civil inquiry.

“Yes,” said Hamilton, smiling. “I want to be owned.”

The two girls hugged and kissed one another, and Ugly Girl touched Hamilton with her nose, in the manner of the Ugly People, drinking in her scent. Then laughing, the two girls gathered up their honey, and made their way toward the shelter of the Ugly People. In the morning, they had decided, they would begin the journey back to the shelters of the Men.

Hamilton preceded Ugly Girl to the shelter of the family of the Ugly People, carrying the honey. Ugly Girl delayed, stopping to gather sticks for the fire that night. Inside the shelter, its mouth now open, as it was during the day, Hamilton saw the male of the Ugly People, and his mate. She called out to them. The child did not come forth to greet her. Hamilton, tired, sweating, carried the honey to the cave, putting it down, in its rolled leaves, to one side. She turned to face the male and his mate, and froze with horror. He sat cross-legged, two pieces of flint in his hand, his head bent over. She, too, sat cross-legged, to one side, leather, with a rawhide thread and awl, in her hands. She was staring straight ahead, not seeing. Hamilton threw her hand before her mouth with horror. Blood was about the head of both. Both were dead. They had been propped in position and each tied to a short stake thrust into the dirt behind them. Hamilton screamed. She turned. In the mouth of the cave, behind her, blocking her exit, was a bearded man, the leader of the Weasel People.

“My power here is precarious,” said Gunther. “I can do nothing to save you.”

Please Gunther!” wept Hamilton. “I beg you, Gunther! As a helpless human female, I beg you!”

“I can do nothing,” said Gunther.

“You are mad,” said William, behind him.

The drums began to beat more madly. The chants became more wild.

Hamilton struggled on the pole, lying on the ground, to which she was tied. It was some two inches in thickness, supple, green, some ten feet in length. Her wrists, over her head, were crossed and tied to the pole; she was stretched at full length; her ankles, drawn down, crossed, were tied, too, to the pole; rawhide ropes about her body, at the knees, at her thighs, her waist, her shoulders, her neck, held her tightly to the pole; she could scarcely squirm; she was stripped; honey had been smeared on her body; to one side, in a ditch a yard wide, and some eight feet in length, the red-haired girl prodded the fire.

“Please, Gunther,” wept Hamilton.

“No,” said Gunther. “It is beyond my power now to interfere. Did I oppose them now, did I interfere in this thing, my power here would be at an end.”

Hamilton heard the moving back of the hammer of a pistol. “It is not beyond my power to interfere,” said William. “You have gone too far, Gunther. If we die, we must stop this.”

“If we stop it,” said Gunther, “we shall die. Do you not understand this? Do not be a fool.”

One of the men of the Weasel People, standing nearby, regarded them, puzzled.

The red-haired girl, followed by the shorter, darkhaired one, who had been cruel, weeks before, to Hamilton, now brought sticks, throwing them on the fire.

Two of the men of the Weasel People bent to the hide drums, stretched over hollowed wood. Others, slapping their knees, sitting cross-legged, chanted.

Gunther looked up, into the muzzle of the pistol leveled at his head by William. “I cannot permit this,” said William. “I have followed you, too far. You have taught me much of what it is to be a man, but this I conjecture, can be no part of that instruction. I, simply, do not find this acceptable. It isn’t to be done.”

“This,” said Gunther, “has nothing to do with manhood. It is neither of a man nor not of a man. My action now is simply that of a rational organism. Better one lost, and that only a female, than three. How much do you value your life?”

“Not this much,” said William. “Untie her.” Gunther looked up at him. “You are not the Gunther I once knew, once admired, once saluted,” said William. “He is gone, left now is only a monster, corrupted by greed for a pittance of power. You were the mightiest of the men I ever knew, Gunther, but you have fallen. Gunther is gone. You pretend to his name, but you are not him. The Gunther I once knew would have led in this action. He would have been too proud to have valued his life in this situation; you have betrayed the Gunther I once knew, who was a great man, one who could dream in steel and theorems, and envisage a world bold enough to lift its hands to stars.”

“Untie her yourself,” said Gunther, standing.

William holstered his pistol and knelt to Hamilton’s bonds. Hamilton wept with relief. She screamed. From behind William, Gunther struck down with the butt of his Luger.

Gunther spoke to two of the men of the Weasel People, who dragged William to one side.

Hamilton wept as two other men lifted the pole and set it across the two tripods, one at each end of the fire. She screamed. She felt the honey melt from her body and heard it fall, hissing, into the fire.

The leader of the Weasel People squatted nearby, watching her body, tied on the spit.

Hamilton cried out, a long, piteous scream. Nearby, kneeling, her head down, her neck tied on a short strap, some six inches long, to a short stake, her wrists tied behind her back, Ugly Girl whimpered with misery. Her back was covered with switch welts.

The women of the Weasel People, at a command from the men, threw aside their garments and, legs flexed, hands lifted over their heads, stood before their men. They stood perfectly still. The drums stopped. Then, when the drums, with a sudden sound began again, the females, as one, danced, turning, stamping, about the fire, crying out, their hair wild. The eyes of the men glistened; they slapped their knees and thighs; Hamilton’s ears rang with the chant; about her, blurred, whirled the nude women, pleasing their men; she heard the honey fall from her body, crackling, in the fire; she screamed in pain, her body a sheet of heat, bound on the thick, greenwood spit.

The screams of the women startled her. The dark shape, which seemed to fall from nowhere, stood beside her. The men shouted, springing to their feet. The man stood with his feet spread, in the fire itself, and then, slowly, angrily, lifted the spit from the tripods, kicking apart the burning wood. He carried Hamilton, on the spit, easily, well over his head, his eyes terrible. Then he thrust the spit a foot into the ground at the side of the fire.

“Tree!” she cried. “Master!”

But he had turned from her and was facing the leader of the Weasel People, who, warily, looking about, was backing away from him.

She became aware of consternation in the camp. A man of the Weasel People lifted a spear in his hand, but the arrow, loosed from the branches at the side of the camp, already was piercing his throat. He tried to speak, turned and fell, breaking the arrow with his hands, then sprawling into the dirt.

Men fought, hand to hand, with stone knives, with stone axes. The women of the Weasel People screamed. Hamilton saw Hawk strike the red-haired girl in the back, felling her, and leaping upon her. She saw Fox with the shorter, darkhaired girl, nude, her arm in his grip, thrust his prize to the side of the red-haired girl. They were thrust back to back; the wrists of each were tied behind her back with the hair of the other; they were then thrown from their feet and Hawk, with a bit of rawhide rope, lashed together their right ankles hobbling them.

The leader of the Weasel People struck down at Tree with his ax but Tree caught the ax, and they grappled; then Tree, like an animal, insane with fury, was behind the leader of the Weasel People; one hand was on his upper jaw, the other on his lower; he broke the lower jaw away from the face; then, methodically, he broke the arms and legs of the man, leaving him in the dirt.

Stone and Knife stepped away from bodies. Knife cut the head from his man.

Arrow Maker strode into the camp, his quiver empty. Runner withdrew his spear from the back of one of the Weasel People.

Flower ran to Knife, Cloud to Runner.

One of the men of the Weasel People fled toward the brush. He met the ax of Wolf, who stepped over his body.

The men of the Weasel People lay about the camp, fallen. Only one lived, their leader, helpless in the dirt near the fire, jaw and limbs broken.

Tooth, his ax bloody, knelt to free Ugly Girl. She whimpered, and he took her in his arms.

Hamilton put her head back, helpless on the pole thrust in the dirt. Her body was blistered. It stung.

She saw Gunther backed against a rock. He had been disarmed. She saw Spear take the rifle by the barrel, and break it over a rock, then the other rifle, which had been William’s. William lay to one side, unconscious.

Fox returned to the clearing. Preceding him was the girl of the Dirt People, who had once hidden in the granary bin during the raid of the Weasel People. Her wrists were tied behind her back. In the camp, Fox threw her from her feet and, with an end of the rope tying her wrists, pulled her right ankle up behind her, tying it tightly to her wrists, that she might not run. In a few moments, from another direction, came Hawk. His prisoner was the virginally bodied girl of the Dirt People, who had been saved from the sacrificial altar by the strike of the Weasel People. She had exchanged slaveries. She would find that of the Men even more complete than that of the Weasel People. The Men demanded more, as was the right of masters, from their females. Hawk put her to her belly and tied her wrists together behind her back, and then, with the same lash of rawhide rope, crossed, pulled up, and tied her ankles. He then turned her on her side, and left her helpless. She lay in the dirt. She looked after him, his by capture. Hamilton saw that his ax was bloodied, and knew then that, in the brush, he had killed for his lovely prize. Hamilton saw her eyes, as she, lying on her side, a secured slave, wrists bound to ankles, watched the hunter walk away from her, paying her no more attention. She was forgotten, until wanted. She knew then that she would have to strive desperately to please a hunter such as he. Hamilton smiled to herself. She did not doubt that the new slave, his by victory and seizure, would serve him well, like Butterfly, who now, freed of the female-holding pit, like the others of the Men, followed him, trying to touch him, to hold his arm, to press her lips to his shoulder. Good-naturedly, he shook her off, but she continued to follow him, closely, as closely as she dared.

Hamilton saw Runner and Arrow Maker turning Gunther about, pushing him against the rock, and tying his hands behind his back.

Tied on the pole, upright in the dirt, hands lashed to it, crossed, over her head, ankles crossed and tied, body tied tightly against it, Hamilton was helpless.

She saw Tree turn and now, that the work of men, the killing, the victory, the vengeance, was done, face her. He motioned Hawk to cut her loose, and turned-away. Hamilton, bond by bond, was freed of the pole. She fell to the ground, crouching, scarcely able to stand. Her hands, and feet, from the lashings, were white. Her body was blistered, wet with hot honey.

“Tree,” she called. “Master!”

She held out her hand to him. He looked at her. He did not seem pleased. Tears formed in her eyes. She knew how frightful she must look to him, her hair muchly gone, cut away from her head by the women of the Dirt People, her scalp cut and scraped.

“I love you,” she said.

He frowned. Then he laughed, mightily, for he had been teasing her, with the cruel humor of the hunter. He grinned at her. Then he held open his arms to her, and she fled to him, weeping, putting her head against his chest.

Hamilton turned her head to one side. Her eyes were frightened. She bit her lip. “Old Woman!” she cried. “Old Woman!”

“Antelope will fetch her,” said Cloud. “Do not cry out.”

Hamilton struggled to her feet, bent over. “Lie down,” said Cloud.

She felt wet. The interior of her right thigh, her right leg, her right shin, were soaked with water. There seemed so much. She had awakened. “Tree,” she had cried. “Tree!” Then she had cried with pain. He had taken the scent, and, getting to his feet, had left her. He would sleep elsewhere. She had cried for a woman. “Please, Cloud! Old Womanl Flowerl Antelope!”

“Lie down,” said Antelope.

Hamilton’s fists turned white with pain. She cried out. “Do not make noise,” said Antelope. “You will disturb the men.”

Antelope lowered Hamilton to a sitting position. Her head was up. She could feel the water about her. She tore away, grimacing with the movement, the brief skirt and threw it from her.

“Old Woman!” screamed Hamilton.

Old Woman had not been killed in the raid of the Weasel People. When she had been led away, Hamilton had not known if she were alive or dead. Struck unconscious in the fall, Old Woman had lain at the foot of the shelters. She now hobbled about with a heavy stick, favoring the leg which had been broken, the pain of which had cost her her consciousness for hours, and had, inadvertently, saved her life from the Weasel People. They, like many predators, found inert objects of little interest. Left for dead, she had been found, several hours later, when the Men had returned.