by John Norman
“Let the churl be stripped,” I had said, imperiously, “and a sign be put about his neck, proclaiming him a fraud. Then let him be marched naked, before the spears of guards, through the great gate of Corcyrus, not to be permitted to return before the second passage hand!”
This was the one case which I remembered the most clearly.
The culprit was a small, vile man with a twisted body. He was an itinerant peddler, Speusippus of Turia. I had found him inutterably detestable. A Corcyran merchant had brought charges against him. He had received a bowl from Speusippus which was purportedly silver, a bowl seemingly stamped with the appropriate seal of Ar. The bowl upon inspection, the merchant becoming suspicious as to the weights involved, had turned out to be merely plated. Further, since the smithies of Ar, those authorized to use the various stamps of Ar, will not plate objects without using relevant variations on the seal of Ar to, indicate this, the object was not only being misrepresented but was, in effect, a forged artifact. This had led to a seizure and search of the stores and records of Speusippus.
Various other discrepancies were found. He had two sets of weights, one true and one false. Too, documents were found recording the purchase of quantities of slave hair, at suitable prices, some even within the city of Corcyrus itself. This hair, as was attested to by witnesses, had been represented to the public as that of free women, with appropriate prices being expected.
Hair, incidentally, is a common trade item in Gorean markets. It is used for various purposes, for example, for insect whisks, for dusters, for cleaning and polishing pads, for cushionings, decorations and ropes, particularly catapult ropes, for which it is highly prized.
It is not unusual, incidentally, for slave girls, particularly for those who may not have proved superbly pleasing, as yet, to discover that their hair, even while it is still on them, is expected, like themselves, to serve various lowly, domestic purposes. For example, when a girl, serving at a banquet, hears the command, “Hair,” she knows she is to go to the guest and kneel, and lower her head, that her hair may be used as a napkin or wiping cloth, by means of which the free person, either male or female, may remove stains, crumbs or grease from his hands. Similarly a girl’s hair, if sufficiently long, may be used for the washing and cleaning of floors. In this she is usually on her hands and knees, and naked and chained. The hair is used in conjunction with the soap and water, in the appropriate buckets, being dipped in, and wrung out, and rinsed, and so on.
Hair incidentally, is not used for the application of such things as waxes or varnishes, because of the difficulty of removing such substances from the hair. Such a mistake could necessitate a shearing and a lowering of the market value of a girl for months. For similar reasons, a girl’s hair, even within a cloth, if it is still on her, is seldom used for such purposes as buffing and polishing. Hair is common, of course, as a stuffing for pads used for such purposes, for example, for the purposes of cleaning, buffing and polishing.
I was pleased to see the odious Speusippus turned about by guards and dragged from my presence. How pleased I was, too, to see the awesome strength of men serving my purposes.
I lay on my back, on the great couch, in the hot Corcyrus night.
Some things I did not understand. Even Susan, who knew much more of Gor than I, did not understand them.
In my audiences, and public appearances, for example, and even in the court, I appeared without the veils common to the Gorean free woman. I knew the veils, and Susan had instructed me in their meanings, arrangements and fastenings, but, publicly, at least, I seldom wore them. This omission seemed puzzling to me, from what I had learned of Gor, particularly in the case of a free woman of so lofty a station as a Tatrix, but I saw no real reason for objecting, particularly in the warm weather of Corcyrus.
Indeed, Susan’s being so scandalized, and her reservations about sending me forth unveiled from my quarters, she once of Cincinnati, Ohio, seemed to me exquisitely amusing. I did try to explain the matter to her, as Ligurious had explained it to me, when I had asked him about it. The important difference between myself and other free women, of high station, was precisely that, that I was a Tatrix and they were not. A Tatrix, Ligurious had informed me, has no secrets from her people. It is good for the people of a Tatrix to be able to look lovingly and reverently upon her. “Yes, Mistress,” had said Susan, her head down.
I had wondered if Ligurious was being candid with me. At any rate, there was little doubt that the features of their Tatrix had now become well known in Corcyrus, at least to many of her citizens. Indeed, only this morning I, unveiled, in a large, open, silken palanquin, borne by slaves, Ligurious at my side, had been carried through the streets of Corcyrus, behind trumpets and drums, flanked by guards, through cheering crowds. “Your people love you,” had said Ligurious. I had lifted my hand to the crowds, and bowed and smiled. I had done these things with graciousness and dignity, as I had been instructed to do by Ligurious. It had been a thrilling experience for me, seeing the people, the shops, the streets, the buildings. It was the first time I had been outside the grounds of the palace. The streets were clean and beautiful. The smell of flowers was in the air. Petals had been strewn by veiled maidens before the path of the palanquin.
“It is good for you to appear before the people,” had said Ligurious, “given the trouble with Argentum.”
“What is the trouble with Argentum?” I had asked.
“Skirmishes have taken place near there,” he said. “Look,” he said, pointing, “there is the library of Antisthenes.”
“It is beautiful,” I said, observing the shaded porticoes, the slim, lofty pillars, the graceful pediment with its friezes.
“What is the problem with Argentum?” I asked.
“This is the avenue of Iphicrates,” I was informed.
The people at the sides of the street did not seem surprised that my features were not concealed by a veil. Perhaps it was traditional, I gathered, as I had been informed by Ligurious, that this was the fashion in which the Tatrix appeared before her people. At any rate, whatever might have been the reason, the people, reassuringly, from my point of view, seemed neither scandalized nor surprised by my lack of a veil. If anything, they might have been saluting me, as though for my courage.
At one point the retinue passed five kneeling girls. They were barefoot and wore brief, sleeveless, one-piece tunics. Their heads were down to the very pavement itself. They wore close-fitting metal collars and were chained together, literally, by the neck. I gasped.
“Do not mind such women,” said Ligurious. “They are nothing. They are only slaves.” I was shaken by this sight. My heart was pounding rapidly. I could scarcely breathe. It was not outrage which I felt, interestingly, nor pity. It was something else. It was a state of unusual sexual excitement, and arousal.
“Smile,” suggested Ligurious, himself lifting his hand graciously to the crowd. “Wave.”
I controlled myself, and then, again, favored the crowd with my attentions, with my smiles and countenance.
At one time, later, we passed by a set of low, broad, recessed-from-the-street, cement steps or shelves. Behind these levels, these shelves or steps, there was a high cement wall. There were several women, perhaps ten or eleven, on these steps or shelves. Most were white but there were at least two blacks and, I think, one oriental. Each was naked, absolutely. Too, chains ran from heavy rings to their bodies, to perhaps a lovely neck, or a fair wrist or ankle. They were fastened in place, literally, on the cement shelves.
As the retinue passed, they oriented themselves to the street and knelt, their heads down to the warm cement. There were more rings than there were women on the shelves, and there were rings, too, set at various heights, in the wall behind the shelves. These rings, too, however, like many of the shelf rings, were not being used. There was an apparatus at one side, like a canopy wrapped about poles, but it, too, was not now in use.
I looked at the women, naked, kneeling, their heads down, chained
on the shelves.
“More slaves,” explained Ligurious.
Again I fought for breath. I clutched the side of the palanquin to steady myself.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Nothing.”
“It was only an open-air market,” he said, “a small one. There are several such in Corcyrus.”
“A market!” I said.
“Yes,” He said.
“But what is bought and sold there?” I asked. I recalled the naked, chained beauties.
“Women,” he said.
“Women!” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“I see,” I said. How matter-of-factly he had put that! Such markets, clearly, like other sorts of markets, were a common feature of Gorean life.
“Bow, and wave,” he suggested.
Again I lifted my hand to the crowds. Again I smiled forth from the palanquin.
But I began to tremble. I had seen owned, displayed human females, women who were merchandise, women who were literally up for sale.
“Put them from your mind,” said Ligurious. “They are nothing, only slaves.”
How terrifying, how horrifying, I thought, to be such a woman, one at the mercy of anyone who has the means to buy her. What a horrifying and categorical thing it would be, I thought, to be subject to sale.
“Hail Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!” I heard.
“The people love you,” said Ligurious.
On this world, I said to myself, a woman could be literally owned by a man. She could be as much his, literally, as a shoe or a dog. I fought the feelings within me. I strove against them. I tried to force the memory of the women chained on the shelves from my mind. I could not do so. I moaned. Then I could no longer deny to myself that I was aroused sexually, helplessly and terribly.
The crowds, from time to time, surged closer to the palanquin. The guards, flanking the palanquin on both sides, pressed them back with the sides of spears. Among these guards, though he did not have a spear, was Drusus Rencius. He had been assigned to me, some weeks ago, as my personal guard. Behind the retinue, following it, came soldiers. Some of these had canvas sacks slung about their shoulders. From these sacks, from time to time, they would fling coins, and bits of coins, to the street. This was, I thought, a nice gesture. The people would scramble for these coins. It seemed they found them very precious.
I continued to smile and wave to the crowd. From time to time, too, I stole a glance at Drusus Rencius. He, however, walking beside the palanquin, had eyes only for the crowd. Outside, perhaps, I seemed charming and benign. Inside, however, almost uncontrollable emotions raged within me. On what sort of world was this that I found myself? I had not known a woman could be so aroused! Again I looked at Drusus Rencius, and the others, guardsmen of Corcyrus. I wondered what it would be like to be owned by a man such as one of those. The thought almost made me faint with passion. I had no doubt they well knew how to teach a woman her slavery. I would be kept by them true to my womanhood, by the lash, if necessary.
“Is anything amiss, my Tatrix?” inquired Ligurious.
“No,” I said. “No!”
Then I continued, again, to smile and bow, to nod and wave to the crowd.
I hoped that my condition was not evident to the stern, practical Ligurious, first minister of Corcyrus.
His maleness, and Goreanness, too, of course, were felt keenly by me. At his least word I would have stripped myself in the silken palanquin and presented myself publicly to him for his pleasures.
Soon the procession began to wend its way back to the palace. One incident, perhaps worthy of note, occurred. A man rushed forth, angrily, from the crowd, to the very side of the palanquin. Drusus Rencius caught him there and flung him back. I screamed, startled. In a moment, the retinue stopped, the man was held by the arms, on his knees, at the side of the palanquin.
Swords were held at the man’s neck. “He is unarmed,” said Drusus Rencius.
“Down with Sheila, not Tatrix but Tyranness of Corcyrus!” cried the man, looking angrily upward.
“Silence!” said Ligurious.
“You shall pay for your crimes and cruelties!” cried the man. “Not forever will the citizens of Corcyrus brook the outrages of the palace!”
“Treason!” cried Ligurious.
The man was struck at the side of the head by the butt of a spear. I cried out, in misery.
“This man is a babbling lunatic,” said Ligurious to me. “Pay him no attention, my Tatrix.”
The fellow, his head bloody, sagged, half unconscious, in the grip of the soldiers.
“Bind him,” said Ligurious. The man’s arms were wrestled behind his back and tied there.
He looked up, his head bloody, from his knees.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“One who protests the crimes and injustice of Sheila, Tyranness of Corcyrus!” he said, boldly.
“He is Menicius, of the Metal Workers,” said one of the soldiers.
“Are you Menicius?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the man.
“Are you of Corcyrus?” I asked.
“Yes,” said he, “and once was proud to be!”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Obviously it was his intention to do harm to his Tatrix,” said Ligurious. “That is clear from his attack on the palanquin.”
“He was unarmed,” said Drusus Rencius.
“On a woman’s throat,” said Ligurious, coldly, “a man’s hands need rest but a moment for dire work to be done.”
I put my finger tips lightly, inadvertently, to my throat. I did not doubt but what Ligurious was right. Assassination so simply might be accomplished.
“Why would you wish me harm?” I asked the man.
“I wish you no harm, Lady,” said he, surlily, “save that you might get what you deserve, a collar in the lowest slave hole on Gor!”
“It is treason,” said Ligurious. “His guilt is clear.”
“Why, then, did you approach the palanquin?” I asked.
“That the truth might be spoken in Corcyrus,” he said, “that the misery and anger of the people might be declared!”
“Prepare his neck,” said Ligurious. A man seized the fellow’s head and pulled his hair forward and down, exposing the back of the fellow’s neck. Another soldier unsheathed his sword.
“No!” I cried. “Free him! Let him go!”
“Tatrix!” protested Ligurious.
“Let him go,” I said.
The man’s hands were freed. He stood up, startled. The crowd about, too, seemed startled, confused. The face of Ligurious was expressionless. He was a man, I sensed, not only of power, but of incredible control.
“Have him given a coin!” I said.
One of the soldiers, one of those who had had a bag of coins, and coin bits, about his shoulder, came forward. He put a copper piece in the man’s hand.
The man looked down at it, puzzled. Then, angrily, he spit upon it and flung it to the stones of the street. He turned about, and strode away.
I saw another man snatch up the coin.
There was a long moment’s silence. Then this silence was broken by the voice of Ligurious. “Behold the glory and mercy of the Tatrix!” he said. “What better evidence could we have of the falsity of the lunatic’s accusations?”
“Hail Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!” cried the man who had snatched up the coin.
“Hail Sheila!” I heard. “Hail Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!”
In a moment the retinue resumed its journey back to the palace.
“Is there anything to what the fellow said?” I asked Ligurious. “Is there unrest in Corcyrus? Is there some discontentment among our citizens?”
“You have surely received the reports of our officers,” said Ligurious.
“Yes,” I admitted.
“Heed them, then,” said Ligurious. “They are objective, and official.”
Such reports, I recalled, unequi
vocally attested to the hardiness and health of Corcyrus.
“Do not pay attention to the babblings of lunatics,” said Ligurious. “They are not worth taking seriously. Too, you will always be able to find frustrates who, excusing themselves, will seek to lay their failures and shortcomings not at their own door but at the gate of their city.”
“I need not concern myself with such charges, then?” I asked.
“No,” said Ligurious. “Forget them. Dismiss them, completely.”
I looked at him.
“If you need reassurance,” he said, “listen to your people.”
“Hail Sheila!” I heard. “Hail Sheila, Tatrix of Corcyrus!”
“You see?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. My heart, then, was flooded with elation, and with affection for the people of Corcyrus.
“You are loved,” said Ligurious.
“Yes,” I said. “I am loved.” I waved happily at the crowd. I dismissed then the rantings of the lunatic from my mind.
“You did make a mistake,” said Ligurious. He was smiling and waving to the crowd, but he was speaking to me.
“What was that?” I asked, waving to the crowd, speaking to Ligurious.
“You should have permitted us to execute Menicius,” he said. “You did not. That was a mistake.”
“Perhaps,” I said. “But I am Tatrix of Corcyrus.”
“Of course,” said Ligurious.
***
I rolled onto my stomach on the silken coverlet. I touched it with my finger tips. It was exquisitely soft.
“May I present to you Drusus Rencius, Lady Sheila, my sovereign, he who is first sword among our guards?” Ligurious had inquired several days ago.
“The name seems not to be of Corcyrus,” I said.
“Various mercenaries are within our services,” said Ligurious. “We have soldiers from as far as Anango and Skjern.”
“From what city does Drusus Rencius derive?” I inquired.