Rebels of Gor (15 page)

“Perhaps as they hurry south to defend the holdings of Yamada, we will see them below, on the road, on our return,” said Lysander.

“We will make it a point to do so,” I said.

“What will come of this?” asked Torgus.

“The lifting of a siege,” I said.

Ichiro then sounded assembly and one-strap.

Chapter Eleven

I Obtain News from the Holding

“After the closing of the courtyard gates, and the disposition allotted to looters,” said Tajima, “the outer parapets were opened again, as was the custom before.”

“You seem disturbed,” I said.

It had been but a few Ehn since our lookouts had spotted the approaching tarn, which soon alit in a flurry of wind and dust, on the small assembly ground amongst the cots and tents of the new encampment.

As soon as the tarn had been seen the small warning gong had sounded its single note, and I had left the tent I employed as the field headquarters of the cavalry. I shaded my eyes, watching the bird descend.

“It is word from the holding,” speculated Lysander.

Tarns and riders were kept in constant readiness to communicate betwixt the holding and the encampment.

“It is Tajima
san
,” said Ichiro, beside me.

His lance with the pennon of command was mounted upright outside the headquarters tent, that it might serve to identify the tent and be easily at hand should it be required.

The gong had sounded a single note, that the encampment be alerted to a new arrival. If the gong sounded twice, this suggested the possibility of an unauthorized intrusion. If the gong rang thrice, or repeatedly, this signified the cavalry was to prepare for flight. Beyond that, signals were conveyed by battle horn or drum. Six tarns were kept in constant readiness, usually divided between the holding and the encampment.

I strode out to meet Tajima, who was, I suppose, though he did not care for the role, my eyes and ears at the holding.

“Put Pertinax to such purposes,” he had complained to me. Little love was lost between Pertinax and Tajima.

“I am not certain you are yet ready for war,” I had said to Tajima.

“I am ready, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he had said.

“You are just annoyed,” I said, “that you are not here, at my side, to spy on me on behalf of Lord Nishida.”

“It is true,” he said, “that I am expected to report on you.”

“You will soon be well enough to do so,” I said.

“I must raise the flag at the castle,” he said, “on the closing of the courtyard gates, to signal the beginning of the cavalry attack on the camp of Lord Yamada. By the time I reached the courtyard, there was no blood left for my blade to drink.”

“Life is sometimes hard,” I said.

“I am not joking, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

“Did you fear to be outdone?” I asked.

“By whom?” he inquired.

“Pertinax, for example,” I said.

“I trust he was not in the courtyard, or waiting in the ancillary buildings, to rush forth upon the looters,” he said.

“This worries you?” I asked.

“Certainly not,” he said.

“No,” I said. “He was assigned here, with others, to protect the camp.”

“Good,” he said.

“So he did not outdo you,” I said.

“How could that be?” he said. “I am Pani. He is barbarian.”

“I, too, am a barbarian,” I said. Most Goreans, interestingly, divide barbarians from nonbarbarians on the basis of language. Those who do not speak Gorean, or do not speak it as a first language, are usually regarded as barbarians. Beyond this, I had gleaned that many Pani did this a bit differently, tending to regard anyone who was not Pani as a barbarian, whatever might have been his native language. I suspected that Lord Okimoto had much this view.

“Barbarians,” he said, “may be divided into those who are acceptable, and those who are not.”

“I see,” I said.

“And you are acceptable,” he said.

“I am pleased to hear it,” I said.

“But Pertinax is not acceptable,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked. “Have you detected him casting sidelong glances at Sumomo?”

“Of course not,” he said.

“What then?” I asked. “Stealing water, rice?”

“No,” he said.

“At one time,” I said, “early in Tarncamp, you could have easily killed him.”

“Certainly,” he said.

“That is not so clear now,” I said.

“Nodachi, swordsman,” he said, “has accepted Pertinax as a student.”

“He does not accept everyone,” I said.

“No,” said Tajima.

“He believes Pertinax has promise,” I said.

“Pertinax is not Pani,” he said.

“That does not seem to concern Nodachi,” I said.

“How could it not?” asked Tajima.

“He is Nodachi,” I said.

“I do not understand,” said Tajima.

“Perhaps then,” I said, “you have not yet fully profited from his instruction.”

I myself did not pretend to understand Nodachi. He was a teacher, and a master. He was wedded to the sword, and it was as alive in his grip as if it were his own hand. There are men who dedicate themselves to an art, to painting, to music, to poetry. They strive for the perfections, the nuances, of shades, of colors, which only they can see, of notes which only they can hear, seeking the perfect drawing on silk, the tree that is living, the never-to-be forgotten cloud, the cascading tumble of sparkling water descending a hill, the perfect line of poetry, the beauty which perhaps only they can fully see, but for which they live. And this strange, short, thickly built man, so unprepossessing, so commonplace in appearance, so ragged in garments with hair so unkempt, this man so solitary, and lonely, so shy, so quiet, so dignified in speech, sought a kindred perfection, but it had to do with a finely honed blade, with skills, with a craft in which a perfection never to be achieved was incessantly sought. I did not understand him. But I knew I had been in the presence of greatness. He was Nodachi.

“Pertinax is not your enemy,” I said.

“Nor is he my friend,” said Tajima.

“I think he would be such,” I said.

“He is not Pani,” said Tajima.

“Nor am I,” I said.

“But you are acceptable,” he said.

“You see Pertinax as different, as not Pani,” I said. “You despised him. Now you see him grown in strength, in skills, in learning. You fear he may one day equal, or excel you. This makes you angry, and afraid.”

“I am unworthy, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said.

“No,” I said. “You are very worthy.”

“Why did you not risk me in combat?” he asked.

“I feared you were not yet ready,” I said.

“And why did you not risk Pertinax in combat?” he asked.

“I did not think he was ready,” I said.

“I will train with him,” he said. “I shall try to improve his skills.”

“You are truly Pani,” I said.

“But you must place us in combat,” he said.

“I must do so,” I said.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I am commander,” I said.

* * *

I had strode forth to greet Tajima.

Auxiliary personnel took the descended tarn in charge, that it might be led to the cots for grooming, for its feeding and watering, its rest.

“After the closing of the courtyard gates, and the disposition allotted to looters,” said Tajima, “the outer parapets were opened again, as was the custom before.”

“You seem disturbed,” I had said.

“I fear I am, Tarl Cabot, tarnsman,” he said, “for I bear dark news.”

“Lord Temmu has sent you?” I asked. “Lord Nishida, Lord Okimoto?”

“No,” he said. “I have come myself, alone, unbidden, that I may report to my captain, my commander.”

“Report first,” I said, “of the holding.”

“Much proceeds well, as you are aware,” he said.

“On the surface?” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “On the surface. Certainly Lord Yamada is distraught. He cries vengeance on the house of Temmu. He feels betrayed. How is it that the cavalry flew? Was this action not forbidden? He withdraws his troops to protect his towns, holdings, palaces, and fortresses from fire cast down from the sky.”

“It will be difficult to do so,” I said.

“The siege is lifted,” said Tajima. “Our warriors descend the paths to the plain. Only small contingents of Yamada’s forces are about. When encountered, they are engaged, commonly successfully. Many withdraw. Our peasants return to their fields. To the north of the holding, Yamada’s Ashigaru leave the villages, and make their way south. Their rice sacks are empty. Some die in the mountains. Men sing. Work begins again. Rice which did not exist suddenly appears.
Fukuros
are set aside for the house of Temmu. He is lord and his name is spoken with politeness. Those who control demon birds control the clouds, and those who control the clouds control the sky, and those who control the sky control the earth.”

“Scarcely,” I said. “The ultimate judge and lord of battle is men afoot, common men, marching, disciplined men, men who breach walls and force their way through gates, who can explore streets and enter rooms where desperate enemies lurk. These are the men who conquer, those who touch the enemy, who sack his treasure, and chain his women, that they be their playthings.”

“The cavalry brought an end to the siege,” said Tajima.

“The cavalry,” I said, “has its values, and purposes.”

“In seeking rice, in the time of hunger,” said Tajima, “it seems Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, was wise, in not burning and punishing villages, and slaying men and women who withheld rice.”

“That was the order of Lord Temmu,” I said.

“Which, it seems,” said Tajima, “the commander failed to convey to the cavalry.”

“It slipped my mind,” I said.

“Perhaps the commander is weak,” said Tajima.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“But perhaps,” said Tajima, regarding me narrowly, “there are codes?”

“Perhaps,” I said.

“I suspect the codes are not clear on the matter,” said Tajima.

“Perhaps,” I said.

“Perhaps the peasant is a better ally than enemy,” said Tajima.

“That is quite possible,” I said.

“In the fields,” said Tajima, “we are now welcomed.”

“The northern fields,” I said, “were long under the suzerainty of Lord Temmu.”

“They expect to be honored and protected,” said Tajima.

“It would be wise for Lord Temmu to do so,” I said. I was not so sure, personally, that there was all that much difference between the tyranny of a Lord Yamada and the benevolence of a Lord Temmu.

“Many Ashigaru of Lord Yamada, after the siege was lifted, were fallen upon by peasants.”

“Winds shift,” I suggested.

“Doubtless some will find their way south,” said Tajima.

“I would expect so,” I said.

“Do you think Lord Yamada will welcome them?” asked Tajima.

“Certainly,” I said.

“They are in disgrace,” said Tajima. “In contempt, he will cast the knife to their feet, that it may be put to use.”

“They have obeyed well, and risked much,” I said. “Perhaps they should seek a new lord.”

“They will not return to him,” said Tajima. “They will be
ronin
, men of the waves, men with no lord, mercenaries, free swords.”

“Is not Nodachi, swordsman, such?” I asked.

“It is true,” said Tajima. “He has never pledged his sword. He owns no lord.”

“You spoke of dark news,” I said, “yet your report seems benign.”

“Indeed,” he said, “supplies are ample, and there is talk of marching to the south.”

“The offense must begin,” I said, “to be abetted with the cavalry.”

“Lord Yamada outnumbers us grievously,” said Tajima.

Following the disasters of the mutiny at sea, the ambush following the first landing, the fate of the exploratory force, the raid on the first encampment, and casualties of the siege, there were something less than thirty-five hundred men, Pani and barbarians, at the disposal of the house of Temmu. It was estimated that Lord Yamada had at least three times this many in regular troops, and might, if it seemed needed, impress as many again from amongst the peasantry. Indeed, most Ashigaru were of peasant origin. They were not of significant family. Few would become men of two swords.

“Consider the double quiver of the tarn saddle,” I said.

“It is true,” said Tajima, “that two men with two arrows may be outnumbered by one man with three arrows.”