“Hopefully she will bear her burden gracefully, and well,” he said.
“I trust so,” I said.
“And if she does not?” he said.
“That would be called to the attention of Genserich,” I said, “with suitable repercussions to her pretty hide.”
“Then you admit she has a pretty hide?” he said.
“It will do,” I said.
“I think it is quite pretty,” he said.
“It will do,” I said, “for that of a slave.”
“Slaves have the prettiest of hides,” he said.
“At least the most visible,” I said.
“I fear the question is moot,” he said. “Would that we were not bound.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Look ahead,” he said.
Blocking the projected exit from the camp were six men, two with leveled crossbows, quarrels waiting in the guides, like patient snakes. “Hold,” said Rorton, raising his hand, palm forward.
The attackers had an original force of fifteen men. Six were before us, in a menacing posture, including Rorton. Two guards were to be recalled from the forest, and one of Genserich’s men had gone to bring them in. There were only two crossbows amongst the attackers, and it seemed that both of these were at the disposal of Rorton. This left six facing six, save that the men of Genserich lacked the readiness of the guide-set quarrel, poised to be instantly flighted. I did not know the likely allegiance of the three out of the camp. I did know that there had been uneasiness amongst several of the men at the decision of Genserich to spare the former prisoners. Neither Axel nor I, bound and on our rope, would be likely to figure in any resolution of what might be in the offing.
“Stay where you are, and reach for no weapon!” said Rorton. “The first to draw a weapon or lift a spear dies.”
“Put aside your weapons,” said Genserich. “Take your place in line.”
Rorton laughed.
“The step has been taken,” whispered Axel to me, “from which there is no return.”
“Let us parley,” said Genserich.
“Lay down your weapons,” said Rorton.
“To die in our place?” asked Genserich.
Men looked at one another, tensely.
“We are six, you are six,” said Genserich.
“Three others will join us,” said Rorton. “They are with me.”
“That I would hear from their own mouths,” said Genserich.
“Put aside your weapons,” said Rorton.
“Men do not choose doom lightly,” said Genserich. “Your quarrels may find two, but then it is four to six. Those are not terrible odds, when the alternative is sure death. How many will die on each side?”
“None need die,” said Rorton. “Set aside your weapons.”
“Set aside yours,” suggested Genserich. “Then this matter has not occurred.”
The fellows with Rorton looked uneasily to one another.
“It has occurred,” said Rorton.
“What do you want?” asked Genserich.
“Seven slaves, and the gold,” said Rorton.
“Be with us and you will have your share, both of the selling price for the slaves, and your share of the gold,” said Genserich.
“Who would not prefer it all?” he asked.
“Who, indeed?” said Genserich.
“I will be first,” said Rorton.
“Let us do contest,” said Genserich.
“Do contest,” suggested one of Rorton’s men.
“Do contest!” called Aeson.
“We are men,” said Rorton, “neither sleen, nor panthers.”
“In such a way, only one dies,” said Genserich.
“Do not draw your weapon!” said Rorton.
“I draw it,” said Genserich, and very slowly eased the blade from its sheath. Neither bowman loosed his quarrel.
“I am not your match,” said Rorton.
“Then take your place in line,” said Genserich.
“No!” cried Rorton wildly, and whipped out his blade.
At that moment there came from our right a plunging through brush and leaves.
One of Genserich’s guards broke into the camp, and with him was the other guard, and the fellow sent out to call them in.
“Larl, larl!” cried the man.
“Do not be foolish!” said Genserich. “There are no larls within a thousand pasangs of the forests. It is far beyond their range.”
Axel and I exchanged startled, elated glances.
“I saw it!” said the fellow who had gone out for the guards.
“I, too!” cried the second guard.
“It is approaching!” cried the first guard.
“It is a large panther,” said Genserich.
At that moment, to the right, high above the brush, higher than the blade of a war spear, we saw a broad, wide, triangular-shaped head.
Two men cried out with misery. Slaves screamed in terror.
“Do not attack it!” I cried. “It is a domestic beast! There are men with it!”
“Two, three hundred!” called out Axel, in an authoritative voice.
“Cut us loose,” I said, “now, if you would live. We may be able to save your lives.”
“We are officers from the camp of the great ship, of