Tal Goreans,

Greetings visitors,

Welcome once again to the Booknotes column. In the last instalment we followed Bosk northwards to Kassau on his way to Torvaldsland in search of one of the Kurii - a revenge mission fuelled by an adrenaline surge that has granted him remission from the paralysis caused by a poisoned wound he received in his climactic battle with the men of Tyros at the close of “Hunters of Gor”. He has briefly attended the funeral service of one Ivar Forkbeard, only to discover that the rumours of the death of this great Viking chieftain were as much exaggerated as the proverb demands; and he has taken ship with that same Forkbeard, blessing the luck which has provided him with both transport and the promise of hospitality at the journey’s end. Now, as the Forkbeard’s serpent-ship ploughs its sea-furrow, we had better join this merry band of plunderers and their loot, and find out what is happening.

Chapter Five

The serpent-ship does not have the high seas to itself. Ivar Forkbeard is much cheered by the lookout’s hail that announces the presence of another serpent, that of one Thorgard of Scagnar, an enemy of the Forkbeard’s. He proudly displays the wealth, slaves and otherwise, for Thorgard to admire and envy, after interrupting his and Bosk’s latest analysis of the Jarl’s Ax’s Gambit to do so; and Ivar finally gets around to discussing what he ought to call Bosk, and how they should look upon each other. As the name of “Bosk of Port Kar” is quite widely known, our hero decides to revert to his given name of Tarl, but he does not mention his surname. Ivar, pointing out that “Tarl” is not an uncommon name in the North, decides to call him “Tarl Red Hair” for simplicity’s sake - thus showing, incidentally, that Tarl’s assessment of his hair colour back in Chapter One may not have been entirely objective.

At any rate, “Tarl” is now the name he goes by once again, and we shall call him Bosk no longer. He and the Forkbeard perform a simple ceremony, licking salt from each other’s wrists, and we may take it that they are now sworn friends.

As Thorgard approaches, Ivar taunts him for a while with the belief that he will be able to catch the Forkbeard; then he gives the lie to the common claim that Thorgard’s “Black Sleen” is the swiftest ship in the North by fleeing in some haste. He points out to Tarl that he already has all the plunder his ship will hold, and he would be a fool to be drawn into battle on Thorgard’s terms. The two return to their Kaissa as a raging Thorgard slips slowly astern, and the ship returns to its course for the Skerry of Einar, the exchange island where the Forkbeard is to collect ransom on one Aelgifu (see last instalment). And as they go, Ivar drops a hint that we have indeed not seen the last of Thorgard, for his own ship is named after Thorgard’s daughter Hilda, whom Ivar intends to make his slave.

On arriving at the Skerry of Einar, Ivar goes ashore with a set of scales and some crooked weights, making no bones of his intention to shake down the Administrator of Kassua for every tarsk-bit in his purse. He is gone for a little longer than expected, owing to an inevitable dispute over weights and measures, and returns with the ransom money and also the purses of the men of Kassau - and also Aelgifu herself. With a piece of nit-pickery that would not disgrace a school bully, Ivar informs Aelgifu that he only said he would take ransom money for her, and not that he would let her go (and this rather revolves around the meaning of the word “ransom”). But while we might be tempted to cry out on the Forkbeard for a lying hound, we should take note that hard on the heels of the Forkbeard comes a veritable flotilla of small boats from Kassau, and as the good ship Hilda is forced to flee once again, we can chalk this whole sorry affair down to the mutual bad faith of the men of Kassau and Torvaldsland, and conclude that neither of them can claim the moral high ground.

Chapter Six

Without further incident, Tarl, Ivar, and his men, arrive at the hidden inlet where the Forkbeard’s hall is. It is a happy homecoming. There are many slaves of both sexes working the Forkbeard’s fields, and even the male slaves or “thralls” are given leave to welcome the master home, although the female slaves or “bond-maids” are first down to the jetty. Tarl guesses that there is to be a general holiday, and the Forkbeard himself opens the festivities by drawing a five-gallon tankard of ale for his crew. (That’s an impressive size for a bucket, never mind a tankard, even if Tarl is counting in American gallons.) The new bond-maids are also treated to a drink - the ever-present contraceptive “slave wine” - and it will not be long before the efficacy of this brew is to be put to the test.

Bond-maids, including the proud Aelgifu, are brought ashore to be branded and collared, and Tarl is introduced to the locals. One of these, Ottar by name, playfully tries to wrestle Tarl into the sea, and gets a dose of his own medicine for his pains, whereupon he swears friendship in manly fashion and promises to teach Tarl the weapons of Torvaldsland. Meanwhile Ivar’s previous favourite bond-maids make sure he hasn’t forgotten them, before being dispatched to prepare a feast.

One of the new girls, named Thyri, is already known to one of the Forkbeard’s thralls, now called Tarsk but previously known as Wulfstan. She is an old romantic interest of his who spurned him, and he is amused by the irony now that they are both slaves. This is a small piece of by-play, but we will see more of this pair later.

Once the feast is under way, it seems that all the girls captured at Kassau, Aelgifu not excepted, are rapidly becoming accustomed to their new stations and their new names (“Pudding”, in her case), and much quaffing is going on. (I cannot do better than Terry Pratchett’s definition of this term: “like drinking, except that you spill more.”) Neither Ivar nor Tarl, however, are yet too drunk for some business talk. Tarl reveals his purpose: to hunt Kurii, and not only are these not unknown in Torvaldsland but the very holding of the Forkbeard has suffered a little minor nuisance from them. As for Ivar, he is a man with a mission:

Ivar killed the cousin of a powerful Jarl, Svein Blue Tooth, in a duel, for which the Blue Tooth declared him outlaw until a huge weregild should be paid. Controversially, Svein set this weregild at a nominally impossible sum: a hundred stone of gold, the weight of a grown man in carved sapphires, and the daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar. Plainly this ridiculous sum was fixed so that the Forkbeard should never be able to pay it and so remain outlaw for ever; but Tarl reckons up the gold plundered from Kassau and the ransom paid for the rescue of Chenbar from Tarl’s own dungeons (see the closing chapters of “Hunters of Gor”), and observes that Ivar is in a position to fulfil two out of the three conditions already. For the third, Ivar quizzes Tarl as to his opinion of Thorgard and whether he would object to Hilda’s enslavement, and Tarl admits that, as one of Port Kar, he would shed no tears if Thorgard suffered the odd reverse and, as for Hilda, he is entirely indifferent on the matter.

So it seems that Ivar and Tarl each consider the other’s aims entirely agreeable to themselves, and are more than willing to return a favour for a favour, to which end they toast each other in large draughts of mead, and the feasting continues unabated. The new bond-maids are eagerly serving their new masters, and by no means unwillingly so far as Tarl’s report would have it; and for himself, he orders Thyri to his furs, and we can guess what for.

Chapter Seven

Tarl, having been welcomed by Ivar Forkbeard and accepted into his household, now begins to learn the weapons of Torvaldsland, mainly the axe. Naturally he takes to them readily. Meanwhile the Forkbeard inspects his lands and finds all in order to his liking; and the thrall Tarsk also inspects Thyri and finds her much to his liking. Too much; for when the two slaves taunt each other, Tarsk rises too readily to the bait, and it is only the swift intervention of Ottar, who is taking the air in company with Tarl, that prevents Tarsk from laying hands on her.

Even for the mere intention of laying hands on a bond-maid, Ottar urges a summary death sentence, which will give Tarl the chance of trying out his newly-won axe skills on a living body; and Tarsk is too proud (or too aware that he was caught bang to rights) to attempt to palliate his offence. But Tarl, who has often shown a strong Earth-like taste for mercy, makes the counter-suggestion that a whipping will be enough, and the Forkbeard consents to this: fifty lashes with the snake-whip (a fearsome instrument not greatly unlike the Russian knout) by the first passer-by - and he arranges that it will be the strong-armed blacksmith Gautrek who hands out the beating. For what it is worth, Tarsk, if he lives, will get the rest of the day off to recover; but he is to be back at work in the morning.

This is all the Forkbeard has to say on the subject. He only remarks to Tarl that he hears Tarl’s lessons in the axe are going well, and then he is off about his business, before the evening feast. But Tarl points out to Thyri that she shares the responsibility for what just happened, and she admits that she would not have wanted Tarsk killed, and willingly accepts her own punishment: the “whip of the furs”.

Tarl, however, is roused out of his post-coital warmth by a general alarm, raised by a field thrall who has discovered a bosk killed by a monstrous beast which Ivar at once identifies as one of the Kurii. A hunt ensues; but they do not succeed in tracking it down. However, scarcely have they returned to the Forkbeard’s hall than their sleep is disturbed one night when the Kur, grown over-bold, dares to enter the long-house itself. There it kills a man; but the gigantic idiot Rollo, without apparent excitement, keeps his head when all about are too horror-struck to act, and strikes it down with a single mighty blow of the fearsome Torvaldsland axe.

The mortally-wounded and helpless creature is dragged outside, and has time to reveal that it understands human speech and admits to killing both a verr and a bosk before the night before. It is about seven feet tall and four or five hundred pounds in weight, which causes Ivar to assess it as a “small” Kur; but it denies knowing Tarl, and Ivar confirms that the creature’s night-senses are keen enough that it would have not missed Tarl in the dark had it been after him. Then it dies; being cut nearly in half with an axe will do that, even to a Kur.

Chapter Eight

We now jump forward a little in time to rejoin Tarl and Ivar, both disguised as effete Southern perfumiers, trying to interest Hilda the Haughty in their supposed wares. Hilda feigns indifference to what is actually a collection of extremely rare and valuable perfumes from Ar - which, Tarl reminds us, will be taken anywhere on civilized Gor as a guarantee of high quality - and offers to have both Tarl and Ivar put to any number of hideous tortures merely for failing to delight her as much as she considers her right. Eventually she orders them out of her presence, leaving their wares behind, and Tarl, with what is not a bad piece of mummery, dupes her into taking a sniff at a bottle of Capture Scent.

There is an urban myth going the rounds these days warning women not to sample perfume that is offered them in a car park, lest they be drugged asleep and wake up in straitened circumstances having kissed their portable wealth goodbye, and possibly one or two other things they value more. That is just a piece of nonsense, as there is no drug that can really do that; but, on Gor, Capture Scent can. In this case it renders Hilda helpless but not unconscious, and she can only look on in horror as her captors shed their perfumiers’ disguise, spirit her out of the window and throw her into the sea a hundred feet below where a boat is waiting, before plunging down themselves to be picked up.

As Tarl and the Forkbeard return to the ship, they are surprised to see that Thorgard has returned, for he was meant to be off a-plundering, and still more surprised to see that he has one of the Kurii as a visitor. But this is not a good time to go prying into Thorgard’s private business. Tarl, indeed, reflects that if this is the one of the Kurii whom he seeks, then no doubt they will meet again; and if not, he knows no real reason why he should mind very much what it is doing. At all events, Ivar, Tarl and company take their opportunity to slip off into the darkness, a wet and terrified Hilda the Haughty in their possession.

Now, for those who have been paying attention, we may remind ourselves that Ivar Forkbeard’s “impossible” weregild comprised: one (1), a hundred stone of gold; two (2), the weight of a grown man in carved Schendi sapphires; and three (3), Hilda the Haughty, daughter of Thorgard of Scagnar. And as we mark each of these off on the score-sheet, and hazard a guess that Hilda may not be known as “the Haughty” for much longer, we are entitled to ask what the Forkbeard’s next step may be. Moreover, what about that mysterious Kur - and (though this is a minor matter) what has become of the thrall Tarsk, whom we last saw going off to receive such a dreadful beating? Good questions all; but we are done for this month, and such questions will have to wait for next month, and our next look at “Marauders of Gor”.

I wish you well,

Socrates