Pelops played his part well. He lay so inert and lifeless that Blade wondered - had the little man chosen that moment to depart life?

The girl, her full breasts jouncing beneath the metal plates, did not so much as glance at the red-fringed marsh. She reined up beside the limp body of Pelops and stared down at it for a moment. She raised a graceful hand to push golden hair away from her eyes. She leaned down for a closer look. But she did not dismount.

Blade cursed silently. Get off the horse. Get down! He willed her to dismount. Otherwise it would be very chancy. He could not wait too long.

She slid sideways on the horse and reached with a long white leg, poked at Pelops with a tentative toe. Blade fretted. And got ready to do what he did not want to do, or even think he could do - run down the horse.

She was not going to dismount. Blade could not afford to let the horse get a start. He had no choice. He pushed himself from the reeds with a great bound, attaining full speed in three strides and running as silently as he could.

Blade gained a precious few seconds as the girl stared at him in shocked surprise - this naked brawny giant! Her eyes widened, her scarlet mouth was a frightened O, she gave one small scream of terror. Then she reined the horse around and dug her heels into it with a shout of command. The beast leaped away.

Blade had momentum. If he was to catch her at all it must be in the first few seconds. He put everything he had into it, oblivious of the jagged shingle ripping his bare feet.

He came even with her and grabbed one of her legs. She slashed him across the face with her crop, screaming now in fear and anger. His fingers slipped from the smooth flesh and she hit him again with the crop. The horse was getting into full stride. Blade grabbed again for her leg. She raised it and kicked him in the face. Blade stumbled, recovered, and put his last strength into clutching at the reins. He tugged. The reins broke.

She was cursing and whipping him now, her lovely face a mask of fury. Blade ignored the blows. He had a grip on the full mane of the horse and was running along with it stride for stride. But the horse was picking up speed.

Blade made a desperation move. He had never bulldogged a steer in his life, but he had seen it done, and if a man could bulldog a steer he should be able to handle a horse. All he could do was try.

He leaped into the air, throwing himself up and halfway across the long arched neck of the horse. He reached around and caught his left wrist in his right hand - he had killed men with such a headlock - and he applied pressure at the same time his heels dug into the shingle. Blade gave it all he had in a single gut wrenching twist of his great arms and shoulders. The neck of the beast came around. It stumbled. Blade hung on and twisted, his eyes popping, streaming sweat, his muscles knotting and roiling beneath the sleek swart hide. The horse went crashing down.

The girl went sailing over the animal's head. She landed hard and lay stunned, twitching a little. Blade ran to her. She lay on her back, arms and legs outflung, her eyes closed and breathing shallowly. A strap had broken and one perfect breast hung free of its protecting plate. It was her left breast. Blade knelt and put his ear against the velvet flesh, felt the nipple stir in automatic reaction to his touch, listened to her heart action. It was strong. He picked up a limp blue-veined wrist. Pulse good, too. She would be all right.

He spun around at a sound behind him. Pelops, crossing himself again and again with the T sign, stared from Blade to the girl and back at Blade. His expression was a mingle of admiration, panic, hope, and abject terror. He was trembling and near tears again.

Blade stood up. "She will be all right, little man. Only stunned and the wind knocked from her." He pointed. "Get that horse on its feet and get ready to move. We must not linger here."

The animal was still stretched on the shingle. It quivered in spasmodic little movements and could not raise its head.

Pelops said, "The horse is dying, sire. You have broken its neck."

Blade cursed, then shrugged his shoulders. "Then we shall have to do without it. That is bad luck, but it cannot be helped." He pointed down at the unconscious girl. "Keep an eye on her while I find a rock and kill the horse. I cannot leave it suffering like this."

Pelops took a step back and made the sign of the T. "I - I cannot do that, sire. Do not ask it. She is Zeena, Princess of Sarma. I taught her as a child. I can do nothing against her person. Or against her word. If she commands me I must obey. So I beg you do not charge me to do this thing."

For a moment Blade stared at the little man, arms akimbo, trying to keep his anger in leash. His impulse was to cuff the man to his knees. He restrained it. At last he shrugged.

"So I must do everything, then? So be it. But you make matters difficult, Pelops. A thing we will speak of later."

He searched until he found the riding crop. It was made of plaited leather thongs. Blade speedily unraveled the thongs and used them to bind the girl's ankles and wrists. Pelops looked on in horror and moaned and made the T sign.

Blade was in a hurry now. He kept scanning the beach to right and left. It was still empty. He found a good sized boulder and approached the horse. One glance told him that Pelops was right - the beast's head was twisted at an odd angle and its legs kept trembling and threshing on the shingle. "Sorry, old fellow."

Blade raised the boulder high and brought it down on the animal's skull. It died instantly.

When he got back to the girl she had regained consciousness. She did not struggle against her bonds as Blade approached, but watched him with a mixture of cold hatred and curiosity. Pelops stood by in silence, wringing his hands and making the sign of the T. The girl ignored him.

Blade stared down at her. For the first time he was acutely aware of his nakedness. Her eyes, wide and a cool gentian violet, deep pools the color of the nearby sea, roamed over every inch of Blade's body. They missed nothing, those eyes, and their stare gave Blade an uneasy feeling.

She forced Blade to speak first. He smiled, using his charm consciously, if a great naked brute could be said to possess charm, and said: "Do not be afraid, Princess Zeena. I am not going to harm you. I had need of your horse, but the poor beast is dead. And I have even more need of you. But you will not be harmed and as soon as I can I will let you go."

The violet eyes probed his. "Who are you? How are you called? And how do you dare lay a hand on a Princess of Sarma?"

Blade made a little bow, contriving for the moment to cover his genitals with his hands. "I am called Blade. Richard Blade. I am not in Sarma of my own will - but that I will explain later. I dare hold you prisoner because I must. That also I will explain when there is time. Now we must leave this place."

She flashed small white teeth at him. "How came you by my name?"

Blade indicated Pelops. "This little man. He claims he is a teacher - he even claims that he taught you as a child. This is true?"

The violet eyes slanted at Pelops. Her laugh was cruel. "He speaks true. I remember him now. Of all my tutors he could talk the longest and say the least. Until now I had only that against him." Her eyes narrowed. "But now he shall share your fate when I am set free."

Pelops cringed, made the T sign, and dabbed at tears in his eyes.

Blade laughed harshly. "We will see about that, Princess. In the meantime you will be our guest for a little while."

He bent over her. One lovely taut breast was still showing. Blade lifted it back into the breastplate and secured the strap. She spat in his face. He cuffed her lightly with the back of his hand. Pelops moaned aloud.

The girl lay quietly, staring up at Blade with wonderment and disbelief in her violet eyes. It was, he knew, the first time she had been struck. It had been no blow at all, merely a token warning, yet the effect was as if he had bashed her solidly. Their glances locked and held and Blade thought he recognized another element, a spark, a bare beginning and recognition of something other than hate or anger or resentment. He had seen that look in women's eyes before now. He would exploit it if he could.

Blade, unspeaking, picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She was silent. He nodded brusquely at Pelops. "Back into the marsh, little one. You lead. Stay under cover and get us into those hills yonder as soon as possible." Blade nodded toward the sere mountains on the horizon. "And use those scholar's brains of yours - we must have clothes and food and weapons. Consider it an equation and let me know when you have the answer."

Pelops stopped trembling long enough to point at the dead horse. "They will find that. And our tracks lead into the marsh. They will be after us."

Blade, adjusting the bound girl on his shoulder, cradled his chin in a great fist. "You are right. But how soon? When does that slave patrol come back to the fort?"

"Tomorrow, sire. Unless the - the Princess is missed sooner."

Blade grinned, "We will take that chance, then. Forward, little teacher."

For hours they toiled through the swamp. Insects pestered them and small animals scuttled away at their approach and several times they saw snakes. The brown hills appeared to draw away as they approached. The smell of the Purple Sea vanished, the stink of brackish water replaced it, and it began to grow dark.

As the light faded they came to a spreading lake of black water in which thorn trees grew closer together. At this malign and forbidding sight, Blade called a halt. They would have to wade the lake - Pelops said this was possible - and Blade did not want to chance it at night. He found a fairly dry spot where two giant rocks arched together to form a partial cave, and dropped the Princess without ceremony. With intent. That which he had glimpsed in her eyes was still there and Blade meant to use it. For what advantage he could. A tenuous advantage, to be sure, and not to be trusted, but for the moment it was much better than nothing.