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Show Seljuk had gone on several fertility raids with her younger women during the last few seasons, but without success. Ah, regard it not, she thought. Past her breeding years she was, and a good thing withal. After the last raid, therefore, she'd let the little Benji come to her bed once more. He was a lovely little wight indeed, dressed in bright colors and hung about with pretty amulets to ward off the GreenSnake-for he was of a tribe full superstitious and affrighted witless of this harmless beast of the Eastern marshes. Indeed, she could fair swoon each time she saw him slipping about the house on his business or bringing in the flocks, the setting Twins at his slim and shapely back. What harm would it do, pardee? And then, when it was evident that she was to once more give birth, she had hoped-ah, how she had hoped withal!-that it had been the result of the last raid. Counting laboriously on her fingers, it seemed to come out right-and the others were all swelling and walking around complacently, hoping no doubt that they would give birth to girls. For the boys, with few exceptions, were raised only to their early adolescence, and then left to fend for themselves in the RedDesert. They were almost always big and gross, muscles bulging obscenely on arms and legs of the most monstrous size imaginable, and so of a type particularly repugnant to the Seljuks. Searching around inside themselves for some motherly feeling, the women could hardly forebear to chase these poor sons out of their houses. Those hoarse, horn-like voices! Those big, ham like hands and feet! What Seljuk would take them for consorts? Indeed, they looked like women themselves! 110 |
