To Your Scattered Bodies Go by Philip José Farmer & Science Fiction Book Club

Author:Philip José Farmer & Science Fiction Book Club
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780739441886
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 1971-03-15T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

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They were led ashore near a large building behind a wall of pine logs. Burton's head throbbed with pain at every step. The gashes in his shoulder and ribs hurt, but they had quit bleeding. The fortress was built of pine logs, had an overhanging second story, and many sentinels. The captives were marched through an entrance that could be closed with a huge log gate. They marched across sixty feet of grass-covered yard and through another large gateway into a hall about fifty feet long and thirty wide. Except for Frigate, who was too weak, they stood before a large round table of oak. They blinked in the dark and cool interior before they could clearly see the two men at the table.

Guards with spears, clubs, and stone axes were everywhere. A wooden staircase at one end of the hall led up to a runway with high railings. Women looked over the railings at them.

One of the men at the table was short and muscular. He had a hairy body, black curly hair, a nose like a falcon's, and brown eyes as fierce as a falcon's. The second man was taller, had blond hair, eyes the exact color of which was difficult to tell in the dusky light but were probably blue, and a broad Teutonic face. A paunch and the beginnings of jowls told of the food and liquor he had taken from the grails of slaves.

Frigate had sat down on the grass, but he was pulled up to his feet when the blond gave a signal. Frigate looked at the blond and said, `You look like Hermann Göring when he was young.' Then he dropped to his knees, screaming with pain from the impact of a spear butt over his kidneys.

The blond spoke in an English with a heavy German accent. `No more of that unless I order it. Let them talk.' He scrutinized them for several minutes, then said, `Yes, I am Hermann Göring.'

`Who is Göring?' Burton said.

`Your friend can tell you later,' the German said. `If there is a later for you. I am not angry about the splendid fight you put up. I admire men who can fight well. I can always use more spears, especially since you killed so many. I offer you a choice. You men, that is. Join me and live well with all the food, liquor, tobacco; and women you can possibly want, or work for me as my slaves.'

`For us,' the other man said in English. `You forget, Hermann, dat I have gust as muck to say about disc as you.' Göring smiled, chuckled, and said, `Of course I was only using the royal I, you might say. Very well, we. If you swear to serve us, and it will be far better for you if you do, you will swear loyalty to me, Hermann Göring and to the one-time king of ancient Rome, Tullius Hostilius.' Burton looked closely at the man. Could he actually be

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