"But why would so few men try to reach the city?" asked a fellow. "And why, so few in number, would they strike at the pens?"

"They are mad," said a fellow.

"Drunk," suggested another.

A man looked down at me, and I quickly lowered my head, that I not meet his eyes.

"It is over now," said a fellow.

"We do not know," said a fellow. "There may still be fighting."

"There were less than fifty, surely," said a man.

"I think it would be over," said another.

At about that time the bars began to diminish, first one stopping sounding, and then another.

"Yes," said a fellow. "It is over now."

They began then, wishing one another well, separating the one from the other, to take their diverse ways from the terrace.

I lifted my head.

It was still bright, still late afternoon.

I wondered if, elsewhere, some skirmish was done, some steel reddened.

It was a strange feeling, being where I was, where it seemed so quiet, the sky so blue and calm, the clouds moving overhead, unhurried, knowing that not far away some terrible action might be ensuant, perhaps at the pens. But the bars had stopped sounding. It was done then. It was over.

I sat back against the wall.

I wondered where the Lady Constanzia and the scarlet-clad fellow might be. One supposed they might have taken cover with the sounding of the bars. Or perhaps she had been braceleted while he went to investigate, perhaps one bracelet put about her left wrist, the other about the linkage of a stout fence, or perhaps she had been knelt before a stanchion, her wrists braceleted about it.

Some folks were strolling now on the terrace. I closed my eyes, against the heat, the sun.

"Look!" I heard. It was a man's voice. It came from somewhere in the vicinity of the bal.u.s.trade.

I opened my eyes and stood up, by the ring. I looked in the direction in which he was pointing, out, over the bal.u.s.trade. Several others, too, were looking.

Some of these were near the bal.u.s.trade. Others had turned about, from where they were on the terrace.

"Look!" he cried again.

I could now see, in the distance, that to which he must have reference.

It was another flight of tarns. They seemed tiny, so far away. It was difficult to judge their number.

"Tarns!" said another fellow, now, too, pointing. Two more men ran to the bal.u.s.trade.

The tarns seemed larger now. They must be coming very rapidly, I thought. It seemed clear that there were more tams in this group than in the first group, perhaps considerably more, but by how much the numbers of this group might exceed those of the first group it would be very difficult to say, that for two reasons, their formation and orientation. They were in single-file, like the first group, but they were not moving to the right, as had the first group, an orientation that had made possible a fairly exact estimate of their numbers.

Rather, this time, in file, they seemed to be moving directly toward us. If one had not been looking at an exact point in the sky one might not even have noticed them. Too, they seemed at a fairly low alt.i.tude, approaching parallel to the ground. They might not be more than a few yards' height above the walls. At times they were difficult to detect for the mountains behind them.

"They're coming this way!" said a fellow.

"Go," said a man to a free woman. "Leave! Get indoors! Get off the terrace!"

I saw a child, with a ball, running toward the bal.u.s.trade.

"Run!" said a man.

"There is no danger!" said a fellow. "The bars are not sounding!"

"They have to be our lads!" said another. "It is a second pursuit!"

"Disperse! Disperse!" said a guardsman, near the bal.u.s.trade. "Move!

Move!"

The flight did indeed seem to be approaching with great rapidity.

"Go!" said the guardsman. He actually pushed a fellow. That is seldom done with free persons.

If the approaching riders had banners they had not yet unfurled them.

To be sure, this is normally done only when recognition is practical, or important. It might be mentioned, too, that the unfurled banner, at high speeds, is difficult to manage. It requires a strong man under such conditions to keep it from being whipped from its boot. It also, because of drag, reduces airspeed. Too, obviously, it handicaps its bearer in combat. His compensation is the banner guard, usually four of his fellows whose duty it is to protect him and the ensign. Actual instructions in flight are usually auditory rather than visual. They tend to be transmitted not by banners, or standards, or even pennons. but by tarn drums, trumpets, and such. Even riderless birds, as I understand it, will often respond to these signals, the charge, the wheel to one att.i.tude or another, the ascent, the dive, the retreat, and such.

In measured flight, tarn drums may also supply the cadence for the wing beat.

"Go!" said the guardsman.

"The bars aren't sounding!" protested a man.

"Go!" cried the guardsman.

I saw a woman turn about and began to hurry from the terrace.

"There!" said a man. "See! The banners! The banners of Treve!"

There was a cheer from those on the terrace.

Still the flight proceeded toward us.

"Run!" screamed the guardsman. "Run!"

"No!" cried a man.

"Look!" cried another.

"See the banners!" cried another.

"Run!" screamed the guardsman. "Run!"

Suddenly, overhead, only yards above us, there was a terrible sound of screaming tarns, and a blasting storm of wings. I heard a terrible scream of a tarn and saw one of its wings cut from its body by the almost invisible, swaying tarnwire. I saw another great bird tangled in it, tearing at it, bloodily. Another had thrust its talons about the wire and was wrenching it about.

Two birds thrust through the wire, darting within its interstices. The terrace was filled with screaming, running people. There was a ma.s.s of color and robes. On the terrace the tarn which had lost its wing was screaming and flopping about. Another tarn broke through the wire. I then saw some five men, suspended from a rope, lowered from a hovering tarn, descend to the terrace. The guardsman who had been at the bal.u.s.trade rushed toward them. I backed against the wall, to which I was chained. Even so, I was buffeted by people fleeing, seeking the edge of the wall. Some fled over the bridge. Some fled toward the steps at the end of the terrace. I saw more tarns darting through the wire, guided by a fellow, still mounted on his tarn, on the terrace. Some other men were running toward the posts supporting the wire. Another fellow, suspended from the saddle, the tarn hovering, was cutting at the wire with a two-handled tool.

Other riders soared overhead casting down wired weights to drag at the wire, perhaps to pull it down, perhaps to increase its tautness, rendering it more vulnerable to stress. I saw one of the tarns on the terrace seize a fellow in its beak, and then half of him was cast to the side. Another tarn had four men grasped in its talons. Its head seemed alert, lifted, its eyes wickedly bright, scanning to the left and right.

There must have been some fifty intruders now on the terrace, some in the saddle, others dismounted. I could see more tarns coming over the mountains.

Doubtless they would be directed in, through the gaps in the wire. Then I saw, too, shimmering, the descent of a network of wire, it cut from the posts by the men who had scaled them. I saw a woman showered with blood from the mutilated tam. Its rider, now dismounted, drew his sword, and, with one stroke, cut its throat. The woman fled. I heard orders being issued. I did not know the accents. Save for the intruders the terrace was now mostly empty. Those who had been here, who had managed the matter, had fled. But there were, in many places on the terrace, crumpled forms. I saw the ball which had been the child's rolling in the wind across the terrace. The guardsman who had cried out at the bal.u.s.trade lay in blood only a few yards from me. Beside him lay two of the intruders. I became vaguely aware, now, that the bars were again sounding. The defenses of this part of the city, I gathered, had been drawn away, to defend the pens. But surely the alarm was now once again out. Surely it could be only a matter of minutes before a defense could be mustered. I smelled smoke. But what if the tarnsmen of Treve, those in the vicinity, were in pursuit of the first flight? What if it had drawn them away? Could they hear the alarm bars behind them, in the city? Could they be recalled? Could a messenger catch up with them?

How much time would it take to do so, and then return? And would the officers of the pursuit return to the city? Their priorities might be otherwise.

The pursuit of intruders, I knew, was tenacious, relentless. It would be important to the pursuit that the secret of the city be kept. Any who knew it might later be a guide to thousands. However many had slipped into the city might, in accord with some sober military calculus, be left for later. In a sense, were they not now isolated, trapped? There must be tarnsmen left in the city, though. Surely there must be! I was sure, too, there would be numerous guardsmen, spearmen, bowmen. Did they know where the intruders were It was perhaps two Ahn until darkness.

There were now several of the intruders, some mounted, others not, on the terrace. I would have guessed their number at some one hundred and fifty men. One fellow seemed to be in command.

He seemed to be issuing orders, fiercely, impatiently, but I could not hear them. I saw several men, in squads, rush away. Some of these squads went into buildings, adjoining the terrace.

One went toward the stairway, across the terrace. Another turned about, toward me. I lay down at the foot of the wall, my knees drawn up, terrified, looking down at the stones. They sped past me. When I looked up, I realized the one party had gone to seal off the stairway, and the other, that which had run past me, perhaps without even really seeing me, had gone to the bridge. These were the two princ.i.p.al access points to the terrace. To be sure, it could doubtless be reached in some other fashions, through narrow pa.s.sageways, over the bal.u.s.trade from below, descending from adjacent roofs, perhaps through certain buildings.

On the terrace, now discarded, lying among bodies, I saw some of the banners of this city, which had been displayed during the approach to the city. Too, here and there, on the stones, occasionally glinting in the oblique rays of the lowering sun, strands of it, like lengths and tangles of metallic webbing, was tarnwire.

To me this incursion seemed madness.

Surely there were less than two hundred men here.

Obviously they could not take the city.

I saw one of the intruders light a torch. He hurried into an adjacent building. Two others followed him.

What could be the purpose of these men here? I had just seen the fellow with a torch enter a building.

Indeed, I had smelled smoke, earlier. Certainly fires must have been started. But I did not think they could burn the city, not unless they were prepared, in effect, except perhaps for certain districts, to enter and torch it, building by building. And many Gorean dwellings are not easy of access. In many the only access is in virtue of bridges which are often high above the ground level, bridges which may be easily defended, even destroyed.

Whereas the buildings, and towers, might be burned out, it would be practical, on the whole, to do it only from the inside. This was not a place which might be destroyed by a single lamp, brushed by a sleeve from a table, or by the focused rays of a lens, poised over straw, waiting for the sun.

But if they could not take the city, nor destroy it, what was their purpose in coming here? It must be gold, I thought, or women.

To my left I saw one of the raiders dragging a free woman toward the center of the terrace.

Her hood and veils had been disarrayed. His hand was in her hair. He threw her to her knees in the vicinity of the officer. I then saw another raider conducting another free woman forth. Her hood and veils were also disarrayed. She was bent over. She hurried beside him, as she could, his left hand in her hair, her head held down, at his hip. It is a common leading position for female slaves. In the pens I had often been conducted from one place to another in that fashion.

It is painful. His right hand held a drawn sword. It was bloodied. This woman, too, was put to her knees near the officer.

Yes, I thought, they are after women, and gold!

But the two women were not stripped. They were not bound, or chained. I did not see them being tied over saddles, or to saddle rings. There seemed no cage baskets with the raiders. I saw no plate, or candelabra, no vessels of silver or gold, being brought forth. Had it not yet been fetched? And how would these goods, these loots, of precious metal, of soft flesh, of unusual fabrics, of rare spices, be transported whence these intruders derived? Did they think this would be easy? At any time the men of Treve might fall upon them!

What an irrational and improbable wager they lay with the fates of the mountains and steel!

What an abuse of economic realities was here enacted! Were the odds of defeat so difficult to calculate?

Was it so hard to judge of the speed of birds, the distance to safety, the numbers of the pursuit, the determination of the pursuers? What could they hope to obtain here that might render them willing to accept risks so irrational? One man had conjectured that they might be drunk but the bravado of a drunken spree might suffice for the scaling of a wall or the storming of a gate but it would not carry men for days across mountains, hiding by day, moving by night.

Then it must be, I thought, as another had conjectured, they must be mad, the whole of them.

the several of them, together, they must all be mad. Was a woman or two, a sack of plate, a handful of gems, worth their lives? Did they value their lives so lightly? It must be that, I thought, they must all be mad.

Across the terrace, now, to my left, as I now knelt, my back to the wall, I saw some people being herded out, onto the terrace, from one of the buildings. There were perhaps thirty or forty of them. They were being brought to the center of the terrace, where the officer held forth. They were put in a circle, on their knees, huddling there, crowded together.

The two women who had been brought forth earlier were now among them. Men with swords drawn stood about.

But they could not be mad, I thought, not so many.

The women in the group were still clothed.

Surely they would remove their clothing and a.s.sess them, and secure those of most interest, those destined then, could they but reach safety, for the pens, and the block.

But they were still clothed.

I saw a fellow drawn forth from the huddled group and thrown before the officer, or commander, of the intruders. Then, a moment later I, shrinking back against the wall, aghast, saw him put to the sword. Then another was drawn forth, he, too, suffering, after a moment, the same fate. There were cries of misery from the huddled group. It surged, uneasily.

Intruders at its periphery tensed, swords raised, to strike down the first who might leap up, who might try to run.

I then, to my horror, saw a woman pulled forth from the group. It was a woman! She, too, in a moment, was put to the sword.

I pulled at the bracelets on my wrists. I only hurt myself. Such devices, close-fitting, obdurate, restrain us, with perfection. I pulled against the leash collar with the side of my neck, but it was close about my neck, then above the kajira collar. The linkage of the chain clinked, the ring creaked, pulled up, straightened, from the wall. Then, held as securely as before, as helplessly, I sank back to my knees, in misery. The chain was then slack, dropping down from the back of the leash collar, looping up to the ring.

I saw a slave girl fleeing from one of the buildings. She ran, erratically, like a frightened, confused animal, here and there, on the terrace. She avoided the intruders. She fled toward the bridge. She must have seen men there. She turned back. She started toward the stairway across the terrace, but, in a moment, stopped. There were men there, too. She fled then to the bal.u.s.trade and crouched down by it, trembling, making herself small.

But she was not pursued.

I did not understand it. None came after her, with a rope or chain, or even a loop of fine wire.

Her legs, I had thought, had been excellent. She had certainly seemed worthy, I would have thought, of interest. It seemed likely that she would, in a neck chain, on a block, obedient to the instructions of an auctioneer's whip, have stimulated spirited bidding.

But she crouched by the bal.u.s.trade now, trembling, neglected.

I saw another man drawn out of the group. He, too, in a moment, was put to the sword.

A shadow moved swiftly across the terrace. I looked up, wildly. It was a tarnsman, aflight, undoubtedly a warrior of the city! The intruders, too, looked upward.

Had there been doubt as to their location in the city, which seemed doubtful, it had now been dispelled.

Surely guardsmen of the city must have formed by now. And so, too, would have warriors quartered within the walls, though the accustomed precincts of their duty lay not within the city itself.