Tal Goreans,
Greetings visitors,

Welcome once again to the Booknotes column. In this, our third look at “Marauders of Gor”, we return to Torvaldsland, where the hero formerly known as Tarl Cabot, and latterly as Bosk of Port Kar, is once again going by the name of Tarl - specifically, “Tarl Red Hair”. This surname has been bestowed upon him by the lively and adventurous Ivar Forkbeard, presently outlaw pending the payment of a truly epic wergild for a thoroughly dubious charge of murder. (See the previous issues if this summary is a little too potted.) The Forkbeard, with the willing help of Tarl, has just finished acquiring the means wherewith to pay this wergild by abducting Hilda the Haughty, daughter of a powerful Jarl known as Thorgard of Scagnar.

During the raid Tarl and Ivar noticed that Thorgard was keeping strange company, in the shape of one of the Kurii. It is in search of one of these in connection with the disappearance of his beloved Telima that Tarl came in the first place; but whether this is the one he seeks, or just another member of its kind, Tarl does not yet know, and this is not a good time for finding out.

We rejoin the action as the Forkbeard returns in triumph to his holding in a hidden fjord, there to be greeted by such of his loyal band as were not party to this latest raid, and of course his eager and willing bondmaids.

Chapter Nine

Those same eager and willing bondmaids greet Tarl and the Forkbeard alike, and are treated in their turn with utter disdain by Hilda the Haughty. Her bearing is dignified, but it soon becomes apparent that she has received some initial training from Ivar even during the sea-journey, as Tarl recounts for us. Firstly by restricting her food and drink, and then by lashing her to one of the longship’s oars to be thoroughly wetted, chilled and frightened, Hilda has been taught to come to heel exactly as a pet or a slave.

We should note that this kind of treatment of women is not to be recommended here on Earth; but to the charge that Gor therefore institutionalises abuse of women, I shall content myself with reminding the reader of the punishment of the thrall Tarsk, who was lashed within an inch of his life merely because he would, if not prevented, have touched a bondmaid. We have yet to hear if Tarsk survived his beating; whereas Tarl reassures us that the Forkbeard, despite affecting indifference, had a close eye kept on Hilda, and has seen that she has come to no harm.

The bondmaids treat Hilda to an assessment of her comparative beauty - and we can very well conclude that they are in no hurry to lose any status they have gained by standing well in the favour of the Forkbeard - and when she responds in fury, Ivar has her stripped. He gives her a whipping that is not especially severe for a slave girl, but is of course the only physical punishment she has endured in her life, and then orders her to burn her clothing and puts her to work under one of his other bondmaids.

That night there is another feast, at which Hilda is to serve; but she shrinks away from the Forkbeard’s touch. So he, who is plainly a summa cum laude graduate of the Marlenus school of overcoming a woman’s resistance (for which, see the third instalment of the Booknotes for “Hunters of Gor”), has her consigned to the ice shed. Again, this is exceeding harsh treatment and not to be imitated; but we may be sure that Ivar, as a Northerner and a mariner to boot, knows all about the dangers of hypothermia. It is several Ahn later that Ivar has her released, after she has begged many times to be sent to his furs. There indeed she goes, and there she is joined by Ivar after he has quaffed another horn or two of mead. Within a short time he has worked his own brand of Northern-barbarian magic on her, and she is declaring herself his slave.

As for Tarl, he is not unprovided for, amusing himself with another bondmaid, Olga by name, on whom he inflicts “the second taking of the Gorean master” , in which “the girl is permitted no quarter, no mercy”. And though Olga speaks of this merciless usage with fear and trembling, it is plain that she enjoys it, for as she says, “I would not exchange my collar for all the jewels on Gor!”

Chapter Ten

The scene shifts to the Thing. This is Torvaldsland’s parliament, national fair (comparable to the Sardar Fairs in civilized Gor) and assize court all rolled into one, presided over by Svein Blue Tooth. He, the highest-ranking Jarl in Torvaldsland, is the one who declared Ivar Forkbeard outlaw and assessed the enormous wergild that the Forkbeard has been working to collect. But before the Forkbeard and the Blue Tooth cross each other’s paths again, there is the mundane business of the Thing to attend to. Tarl is enjoying some exercise in the wrestling contest, where he meets Torvaldsland’s champion and breaks his arm for him after the scoundrel tries to land a low blow on him.

This earns him a “talmit” , a headband awarded for success in one or another contest at the Thing; and while he has been winning this, Ivar has not been idle. He has temporarily done away with his distinctive chin-ornament and is going by the name of “Thorgeir of Ax Glacier”, and in this guise has been winning talmits left, right and centre, in contests intended to assess the all-round Vikingness of the participants. His tally of a round half dozen is a record achievement, and likely to attract him plenty of attention.

We can judge some of the character of the Thing from accounts of such entertainments as the “bat and ball” contest, which is plainly a full-contact sport by Tarl’s description; from a brief pen-picture of the old “ trial by ordeal” custom, in which a man proves his truthfulness by carrying red-hot metal a set distance; and from a “trial by combat” into which Tarl sticks his nose. This formal sword-and-shield duel takes place in something like a boxing ring and is used to settle various legal cases, including in this case a thoroughly ill-matched and trumped-up challenge for the ownership of a young Torvaldsland girl. Since Tarl mislikes the unfair odds - it is a seasoned warrior against the girl’s adolescent brother - he subsitutes himself as the lad’s champion, defeats the challenger (Bjarni of Thorstein Camp) with arrogant ease, and accepts no payment for his services, declaring himself satisfied with the mere sport. To his credit, Bjarni takes his defeat graciously and apologises to the youngster for having bothered him, and everyone parts on amicable terms.

Other odds and ends of business are taken care of. Gunnhild is entered into a slave beauty contest, and wins it; a bondmaid named Dagmar is sold off, having stolen from one of her fellows; the thrall Tarsk, who is indeed alive, well and along as beast of burden, is again taunted by Thyri, who argues that a mere thrall should not be allowed to wander around enjoying the sights of the Thing. Ivar agrees, and sends Tarsk back to his tent, chained wrist to wrist with Thyri and given leave to use her as he wishes until morning. From the speed of his departure, it is plain that Tarsk doesn’t mean to waste a minute of his precious licence.

Ivar buys himself a new slave, an Earth girl called Peggy Stevens. She reminds Tarl somewhat in demeanour of Virginia Kent, one of the supporting cast in “Assassin of Gor”, and he wonders if Virginia is still the beloved Free Companion of the warrior Relius, or if (and this is a slight piece of sniffiness on Tarl’s part) she has been re-enslaved “ after a night of depriving Relius in order to obtain some whim of hers”. Tarl will have it that the Kurii steal Earth women in order to sell them at a profit, since Earth women are easier to steal than Earth gold; but, given the low price of Peggy and others like her, we have to wonder at the incredible cheapness of space flight that makes such trading viable. Best not to look too closely at this question, I think.

Tarl just has time to get his hands on another slave girl, one named Leah who is the prize at the Thing-fair’s archery contest. This is an easy win for a bowman of Tarl’s stature with a longbow, even if the precise specifics of his achievement have been found debatable by more experienced toxophilites than me, and it neatly solves his problem of how to find a suitable present with which to thank the Forkbeard for his hospitality. It also earns him a second talmit. He is just labelling Leah and arranging for her delivery to his friend when it is announced that a Kur wishes to address the Thing. Clearly this is unprecedented, but the embassy is allowed and the Torvaldslanders hasten to listen to the address.

Chapter Eleven

Already during this adventure Tarl has had one close look at a Kur, but that was a sickly runt, and this one is a Kur of another colour, nine feet high and massing more than a third of a ton. It addresses the Torvaldslanders as “Fellow rational creatures!” and claims to come in peace, requiring passage for a host of thousands of its kind who wish to head south. Tarl conjectures that these are exiles from the “steel worlds”, the giant spacecraft that are parked somewhere in the outer reaches of the solar system; descendants of those who have been banished, or survivors of skirmishes with Priest-King patrollers who have been allowed to “go native” on Gor.

The Kur ambassador tries mightily to convince the Torvaldslanders that its kind are, in defiance of the evidence, peace-loving agriculturists. Ivar Forkbeard raises a question from the floor, as to what crop the Kurii wish to farm after they have been allowed to pass; and after looking momentarily enraged, the Kur responds “Sa-Tarna”, Gorean wheat. A debate ensues concerning what fee the Kurii should pay in order to be allowed to pass. While this proceeds, Tarl is thinking fast. It is plain to him that this incursion is a deliberate attempt to assess the strength of the Priest-Kings and their willingness to fight; and that if the Priest-Kings choose to preserve a policy of strict neutrality, Man could be exterminated and, eventually, the Priest-Kings as well. It is also a distinct possibility that the Kurii intend no peaceful passage of Torvaldsland, but a sneak attack when their march has made large inroads into the country. Of course, he reasons, the Kur could be telling the truth; they might have thrown off the shackles of their predatory past, and have much to teach mankind, who in their turn might “overcome our manhood, and become one with the snails, the Kurii and the flowers”.

At any rate, the Kurii are prepared to pay no toll, and even make demands for provisions on the way, which provisions - livestock, bondmaids and thralls - make an utter nonsense of their claims to be peaceful vegetarians. Tarl reflects that it is no question of “slave rights” that makes it unlikely that bondmaids will be handed over as food animals, but that, as Svein Blue Tooth himself states, the Torvaldslanders have better uses for their bondmaids than to feed them to Kurii. For all these demands, the Kurii offer the Torvaldslanders only their lives, which rubs them very far up the wrong way; and when one of Ivar’s men arrives with a bucket of grain and a loaf of bread and the Kur ambassador proves unable to eat either of them, the game is well and truly up. However, Svein Blue Tooth proclaims the peace of the Thing upon them and lets them depart, snarling threats as they go.

To lighten the mood, the Blue Tooth announces the forthcoming prizegiving and feast, and Ivar Forkbeard his intention to attend to claim his six talmits. Tarl has yet to see how he will manage this without being summarily executed; but with a glance at the Torvaldsberg, where the country’s legendary founder supposedly sleeps like King Arthur or Sir Francis Drake, Ivar pats him on the shoulder and drags him off for another crack at the Jarl’s Ax’s Gambit.

Chapter Twelve

At the prizegiving Tarl receives his two talmits, a worthy achievement for an outlander, and then watches in trepidation as Ivar steps up to receive his own six. On questioning, he admits that “Thorgeir of Ax Glacier” is a pseudonym, and begs for a particularly binding oath guaranteeing him the peace of the Thing before admitting who he truly is. The Blue Tooth is agreeable to this, not least because there is much reflected glory merely in awarding the prize to such an outstanding champion, and proceeds to swear the peace of the Thing on “Thorgeir of Ax Glacier” on the Ring of Thor, and by the side of the ship, the shield’s rim, the sword’s edge, the fires of his hearth, the timbers of the hall, the pillars of the high seat, the grains of his fields, the boundary stones of his holdings, the locks on his chests and the salt on his tables. He even volunteers to add the bronze of his ladles and the bottoms of his butter pans to the oath, though Ivar graciously concedes these as unnecessary. The Forkbeard then unhoods himself and announces his identity.

Chapter Thirteen

Since the location shifts at once to the magnificent hall of Svein Blue Tooth, we may guess that no immediate disaster attended Ivar’s unmasking. Tarl tells us a lot about the seating arrangements before picking up from the end of the preceding chapter, when Svein nearly lost his temper, having to be forcibly restrained and forcefully reminded of the solemnity of his oath. It is only after lengthy consulation that Svein decides to honour his word, though visibly enraged, and Tarl admires him for it.

Ivar receives his six talmits from the Blue Tooth, and then leads the conversation around to the matter of his outlawry, the magnitude of his wergild, and the deeds of plunder he has lately been perpetrating. Svein, astonished, begins to suspect that Ivar might after all have amassed a hundred stone of gold, a man’s weight in carved Schendi sapphires, and the daughter of his enemy, and his mate, Bera, the Jarl’s Woman, reaches a similar conclusion. She herself invites Ivar to the coming feast, and the Jarl endorses her invitation.

We also hear the latest news concerning Thyri and Tarsk. She turns out to have enjoyed herself very much and now to be more or less the slave of a mere thrall, though his status has not altered at all; and after a good night’s wenching, Tarl and Ivar and his men attend the feast.

Without undue haste, and after all present have eaten and drunk well, Svein Blue Tooth brings up the subject of Ivar’s wergild. He has gold and sapphires brought in, and these are weighed out and found more than adequate in both quantity and quality. But Svein points out that there was a third condition to be met, and that the payment is not complete without Hilda the Haughty being handed over; and he stands by his word even over the protests of his own men, even though admitting that he is asking the impossible. Then Ivar plays his trump card. Hilda is brought in and her identity established. Indeed, it is revealed, to the delight of the Blue Tooth and the outrage of Bera, who has been expressing sympathy, that Hilda is not even a captive but a slave. Lost in admiration, Svein admits that the terms have been met, the wergild is paid, and Ivar’s outlawry is over.

But Ivar is not as straightforward as all that. He feigns misunderstanding, and then points out that the wergild is not, after all, paid. He has, it is true, amassed the wherewithal to do so: but it is not paid until he chooses to pay it, and this he will not do. He has proved his ability to accomplish the impossible and so make it clear that he also has the power to refuse to accomplish it. This development astonishes everyone present, including Tarl; even he has been given no hint of the Forkbeard’s intentions. But, though Ivar’s decision might lead to his own death as well as the Forkbeard’s, Tarl can scarce forbear to cheer, and neither can the Blue Tooth’s own men. This has been rightfully acclaimed as one of the outstanding dramatic moments in the entire series.

For a moment all is hushed. Will the Blue Tooth order Ivar’s death, or will he manfully admit himself to have been in the wrong all along? This would be an act of tremendous magnanimity, and yet perhaps not beyond Svein’s compass. But we do not find out. A smell of smoke and sound of burning herald the beginning of a treacherous assault, and the doors of the hall are flung open to reveal the Kur ambassador at the head of a host of its kind, in full panoply of war; and to the accompaniment of a terrible bestial howling, the monsters burst in intent on massacring Svein Blue Tooth and all within his hall.

On which cliffhanger it is only appropriate that I draw this instalment to a close, with the fat well and truly in the fire. Will any of the feasters escape? Is this the end of the line for our heroes? And, with the High Jarl of Torvaldsland slaughtered along with his household, how will the army of the Kurii be stopped? For answers to all these questions, I must ask the reader to join me next month for the fourth instalment of “Marauders of Gor!”

I wish you well,

Socrates