It was an exchange point.

It is thus that outlaws, to passing ships, display their wares.

We were fifty pasangs north of Lydius, which port lies at the mouth of the Laurius River. Far above the beach we could see the green margins of the great northern forests.

They were very beautiful.

“Heave to,” said I to Thurnock.

“Heave to!” cried he to my men.

Men scrambled on the long yard of the lateen-rigged light galley, a small, swift ram-ship of Port Kar. Others, on the deck, hauled on the long brail ropes. Slowly, billow by billow, the sails were furled. We would not remove them from the yard. The yard itself was then swung about, parallel to the ship and, foot by foot, lowered. We did not lower the mast. It remained deep in its placement blocks. We were not intending battle. The oars were now inboard, and the galley, of its own accord, swung into the wind.

“There is a man on the beach,” I said.

He had his hand lifted. He, too, wore skins. His hair was long and shaggy. There was a steel sword at his side.

I handed the glass of the Builders to Rim, who stood by the rail at my side. He grinned. “I know him,” he said, “He is Arn.” “Of what city?” I asked.

“Of the forests,” said Rim.

I laughed.

Rim, too, laughed.

Only too obviously the man was outlaw.

Now, behind him, similarly clad in skins, their hair bound back with tawny strips of panther hide, were four or five other men, men doubtless of his band. Some carried bows, two carried spears.

The man whom Rim had identified as Arn, an Outlaw, now came forward, passing before the two frames, closer down to the beach’s edge.

He made the universal gesture for trading, gesturing as though he were taking something from us, and then giving us something in return.

One of the girls in the frame lifted her head, and, miserable, surveyed our ship, off shore, on the green waters of Thassa.

Cara looked at the girls tied helpless in the frames, and at the man coming down to the shore, and at the others, high on the beach, behind him, behind the frames.

“Men are beasts,” she said. “I hate them!”

I returned the trading gesture, and the man on the shore lifted his arms, acknowledging my sign, and turned back.

Cara’s fists were clenched. There were tears in her eyes.

“If it pleases you, Rim,” I said, “your slave might, from the sand in the lower hold, fetch wine.” Rim, the Outlaw, grinned.

He looked upon Cara. “Fetch wine,” he told her.

“Yes, Master,” she said, and turned away.

This galley, one of my swiftest, the Tesephone of Port Kar, had forty oars, twenty to a side. She was single ruddered, the rudder hung on the starboard side. Like others of her class, she is of quite shallow draft. Her first hold is scarcely a yard in height. Such ships are not meant for cargo, lest it be treasure or choice slaves. They are commonly used for patrols and swift communication. The oarsmen, as in most Gorean war galleys, are free men. Slaves serve commonly only in cargo galleys. The oarsmen sit their thwarts on the first deck, exposed to the weather. Most living, and cooking, takes place here. In foul weather, if there is not high wind, or in excessive heat, a canvas covering, on poles, is sometimes spread over the thwarts. This provides some shelter to the oarsmen. It is not pleasant to sleep below decks, as there is little ventilation. The “lower hold” is not actually a hold at all, even of the cramped sort of the first hold. It is really only the space between the keel and the deck of the first hold. It is approximately an eighteen-inch crawl space, unlit and cold, and damp. This crawl space, further, in its center, rather amidships and toward the stern, contains the sump, or bilge. In it the water which is inevitably shipped between the calked, tarred, expanding, contracting, sea-buffeted wooden planking, is gathered. It is commonly foul, and briny. The bilge is pumped once a day in calm weather; twice, or more, if the sea is heavy. The Tesephone, like almost all galleys, is ballasted with sand, kept in the lower hold. If she carries much cargo in the first hold, forcing her lower in the water, sand may be discarded. Such galleys normally function optimally with a freeboard area of three to five feet. Sand may be added or removed, to effect the optimum conditions for either stability or speed. Without adequate ballast, of course, the ship is at the mercy of the sea. The sand in the lower hold is usually quite cool, and, buried in it, are commonly certain perishables, such as eggs, and bottled wines.

“Bring us in,” I said to Thurnock. “But do not beach her.” Gorean galleys, with their shallow draft, are often beached. Night camps are frequently made on land. I had no desire, in this instance, to beach the galley. I wanted her free, some yards offshore. With the men at the oars, ready, and others with the thrusting poles, she might be swiftly sped, if need should arise, at a word, into deeper waters.

Thurnock cried his orders.

The wooden tarn head, surmounting the prow of the Tesephone, with its large, carved, painted eyes, turned slowly toward the beach.

The two captured panther girls had now been removed from their frames. I removed the robes of the captain, and stripped to my tunic. In my hand I held my sword, n its sheath, the sword belt wrapped about the sheath.

Rim similarly prepared himself.

Cara not stood again beside us. She looked slightly ill, for she had been in the lower hold, but the air would revive her. There was a great deal of wet sand on her knees and lower legs, and on her hands, and up to her elbows. There was also sand on her brief, white woolen slave tunic.

She carried two large bottles of wine, red Ka-la-na, from the vineyards of Ar. “Fetch, too,” said Rain, “a sack of cups.” “Yes, Master,” she said.

Her hair was bound back with a white woolen fillet. She was beautiful, his slave.

“Oars inboard!” called Thurnock. “Poles!”

We were a few yards offshore. I heard the forty oars slide inboard. I saw two seamen, one on the starboard bow, the other on the port bow, hunch their weight into the two, long, black temwood poles, which curved with the stress set upon them.

The Tesephone hesitated, backed a foot, and then, gently, rocked.

Two further poles were set at the stern, that the lapping tide, seeking its beach, not turn her about.

Another yard and we would have heard soft sand rub beneath her keel. Thurnock had done well.

The tarn head at the prow, slightly rocking, scarcely moving, surveyed the beach.

The Tesephone rested.

I swung over the side, holding my sword, in its sheath, with the sword belt wrapped about the sheath, over my head.

The water was very cold. It came to my waist.

Another splash behind me informed me that Rim had followed me.

I waded toward the shore.

I glanced back to see Thurnock lowering Cara over the side, with the wine and sack of cups, into the waiting arms of her master, Rim.

He did not carry her, but set her on her feet in the water, and then turned after me.

Thurnock had tied the two bottles of wine about her neck, that it might be easier for her, and she held the sack of cups over her head, that they might not be washed with sea water. It was thus that she made her way to shore. I felt the sand of the beach, beneath my feet. I now slung the sword over my left shoulder, in the Gorean fashion.

I climbed some yards up the beach.

The sand was hot.

The outlaws, I saw now there were six of them, including the leader, Arn, came down to meet us, bringing the girls.

They still wore the skins of panther girls. Their wrists had been lashed behind their backs. They were fastened together with a thick, twice-drilled branch, of some five feet in length. It had been placed behind their necks. Each girl was fastened to it by the throat, by binding fiber, the fiber passing through one of the drilled holes, each placed about six inches in from its end of the branch. Arn’s strong hand, gripping the branch in its center, controlled both girls. We met some yards up the beach, on the hot sand.