Adventure Magazine Cover — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Prisoners of War } Orwic . Tros had beaten him roundly once and they had pledged their faith to each other afterward on that sway- ing poop on the dark sea off the coast of Gaul. The other Britons began to jeer at Orwic, although they chose their words, for he had been first into the sea at Cesar’s men when the Romans invaded Britain, and there was none but Tros who had ever beaten him on horse or foot. “Silence!” Tros thundered, tapping with his sword-point on the deck. . One or two laughed, but rather feebly, and they all grew still before the rapping ceased, most of them clutching at their daggers, glancing at one another sidewise. “Must I teach you young cockerels an- other lesson? Lud of Lunden! How many arrows have you? Not a hundred! You squandered arrows against Cesar by the bas- ketful! Do you think Northmen will stand still to have their throats cut? Idiots!’’ “We know how to fight Northmen,” one man piped up. “We'll show you!” “You? Show me?” Tros thundered. He took a long stride forward and they backed away, uncomfortably close now to the poop edge; there was no rail there to lean against. “By Lud, Ill beat the brains out of the first who speaks again without my leave!” He meant it, and they knew it. “Who has anything to say?” His swordblade flickered like a serpent’s tongue; he seemed able to meet all eyes simultaneously. “Who speaks?” he repeated; but none answered him. They could back away no farther; to advance meant instant death to two or three at any rate, and whether or not Orwic should take Tros’ side. “At your hands I have suffered failure!” Tros went on. “It carksin me. I went for Cesar. I bring back dead and wounded men. Whose fault is that? Yours, you disobedient young ! By the gods who grinned when you wasted arrows, it shall be my fault if I fail again! Now hear me! Not a man aboard this bireme shall see Lunden until we beat the Northmen first! Who questions that?” He paused dramatically, but- there was no answer. He had stolen their thunder by threatening to do what they had first pro- posed, like yielding to a wrestler’s hold in order to upset him. “Less than a hundred arrows! Not one throwing-spear! A torn sail! ‘Two-score swordsmen fit to stand up! You have noth- ing but me to depend on! Eat that! Any one question it?”’ “You can handle the ship,” said one of them. He seemed afraid to hear his own voice. “Can I?” Tros’ voice rang with irony. ““Does any of you question that I will?” “Come! No ill-temper, Tros! Nobody doubts your seamanship,” another man Epa up. “We have had proof enough of that.” “Not proof enough! Nay, by Lud of Lunden, not yet enough! Seamanship in- cludes the art of choking mutiny! Who doubts that I command this ship and every © Briton in her? Speak up! Who doubts it? I will abolish doubt!” “‘Caswallon gave you the command. That is all right,” said one of them. ‘Only lead us against the Northmen, that is all.” “Lead? I will drive you!” Tros retorted. “Stand out, the man who thinks I can’t! Come on and let’s settle the question! What? Haven’t I a rival? Down off my poop then! Down you go!” He strode toward them, point-first, and they scrambled off the poop in laughter at their own defeat. So Tros saw fit to smile too, as they crowded in the waist to hear the rest of what he had to say. “Northmen!”’ he laughed, pecking at the planking with his sword-point. “TI will give you such a bellyful of Northmen as you never dreamed! To your benches now! Out oars!” = AND they obeyed him. They had }j) promised they would row when gee. called on. They had disobeyed = him more than once, and it was true that they had squandered ammunition contrary to orders—true that, unless he could think of some expedient, they would be help- less against the two or three hundred men the Northmen probably could muster. But they also obeyed because it dawned on them that Tros was sick at heart from having lost so many men without a victory to show for it, and that he was bent on snatching a revenge from destiny. Thirteen oars aside began to thump in unison, not adding much to the bireme’s speed, ‘but adding a great deal to the unan- imity; and presently Tros added twenty ecomicbooks.com