Kajira of Gor

by Norman, John;

  The lamp again approached more closely. Again my head was pulled back, helplessly, firmly, forcibly.

  "She is not as beautiful as I," said the woman.

  "No," said Ligurious. "Of course not."

  Then my hair was released and the two figures took their way from the room.

  I had then twisted on the couch, freed myself of the confinements of the coverlet, and, sensible of the effects of the wine, or perhaps a containment of the wine, had fallen into a dreamless sleep.

  I heard movements outside the door. The guard was being changed.

  I could not lock the door from the inside. Yet I lay nude, on my back, on the great couch. I wondered if this was brazen. I rolled to my side and pulled my legs up. I bit at the silken coverlet. I wondered if there was a Tatrix within me. I did not think so. There was something else in me, I feared, something that I had only become clearly aware of on this barbaric world, this world in which I must be true to my femininity, and in which there were true men.

  I then understood, I thought, the strange dream I had had. It was not contrasting now, I thought, perhaps two selves, or, more likely, two women, muchly resembling one another, but rather it had been calling to my attention, in its figurative imagery, in the symbolic transformations common to dreams, a discrepancy between what I in actuality was and what it was expected, doubtless, that a Tatrix should be. The contrast, I realized, had been clear, I helpless, sobbing under the domination of Ligurious, little better than a slave, and she above me, far superior to me, haughty, decisive, imperious, cold and powerful. I sobbed. I knew then from the dream, or from what had seemed a dream, that there was no Tatrix in me. I was not a Tatrix, not in my heart. I was, at best, something different. Angrily I arose from the couch. I went to the window. I put my hands on the bars. Many times, secretly, I had tried them. They were heavy, narrowly set, reinforced, inflexible. I laid my cheek gently against them. They felt cool. I then drew back and, my hands on the bars, looked out, across the rooftops of Corcyrus, to the walls of the city, and to the fields beyond. The city was muchly dark. Some of the major avenues, however, such as that Iphicrates, were illuminated, dimly, by lamps. In many Gorean cities, when men go out at night, they carry their own light, torches or lamps. I then looked upward, into the humid night. I could see two of the three moons of this world. I then, suddenly, angrily, shook the bars. They were for my own protection, I had been informed. But I could not open them, or remove them, say, with knotted clothing or bedding, to lower myself to the levels below. They might indeed serve to keep others out, perhaps climbing upward, or descending on ropes from the roof above, but they surely served as well, and as perfectly, to keep me within! What is this room, I asked myself, is it truly my protected quarters, or is it, rather, my cell?

  I walked back to the center of the room, near the great couch. I looked back at the bars. Then I went to the long mirror behind the vanity. I looked at myself, in the mirror, in the dim moonlight, filtered into the room. She is rather pretty, I thought. She may be pretty enough, even, to be a slave. Susan, I recalled, had thought it possible that a man, some men at least, might find her of interest, really of interest, of sufficient interest to be worth putting in bondage, of sufficient interest to be worth owning. I wondered if she could please a man. Perhaps if she tried very hard to be pleasing some man, in his kindness, might find her acceptable. I turned before the mirror, studying the girl that I was thusly displaying. Yes, I thought, it is not impossible that she might be considered worthy of a collar. "Mistress would look well being sold from a block," Susan had said. "Are you free, Tiffany?" I asked the image in the mirror. "Yes," I told myself. "I am free." I turned my left thigh to the mirror, I lifted my chin. I studied the girl in the mirror. I wondered what she would look like, with a brand, with a collar. "You see, Tiffany," I said. "You are not branded. You are not collared."

  I looked at the girl in the mirror. I wondered who I was, what I was.

  "I am the Tatrix of Corcyrus!" I said.

  But the girl in the mirror did not appear to be a Tatrix. She appeared, clearly, to be something else.

  I forced from my mind the memory of the slaves I had seen earlier, the girls in the street, in their one-piece, skimpy garments, heads down, kneeling, chained together by the neck, the girls in the market, in their chains, stark naked, kneeling, too, their heads down to the warm cement, being publicly displayed for sale.

  "What are you?" I asked. "Do you not dare speak? Then show me. Show me!"

  Slowly, numbly, frightened, I turned about and went to the foot of the great couch. I knelt there, and, putting my head down, tenderly lifted up, in two hands, a length of the chain that lay coiled there. I kissed it. "No!" I cried out to myself, replacing the chain. But then I rose up and, timidly, softly, went to the wall where the whip hung. I removed the whip from its hook and knelt down with it. I wrapped its blades back about the handle. Then, humbly, my head down, submissively, near the point where the five long, soft blades join the staff, holding it in both hands, I kissed it. "No!" I wept, in protest. Then I replaced the whip on its hook. I went then again to the mirror. The vanity was low enough, meant to be used by a kneeling woman, and I was back far enough, that I could see myself on the tiles, completely. I saw the girl in the mirror kneel down. "No," I said. I saw her kneel back on her heels. I saw her straighten her back, and lift her chin, and put her hands on her thighs. "No!" I said. I saw her spread her knees. "No," I said. "No! No!" I had seen girls in the palace do that, for example, when a free man had entered a room. Sometimes, too, in identically this same position, they would keep their heads submissively lowered, until given permission to raise them. This variation, and similar variations, depend on the specific discipline to which a given girl is subjected. The head is usually kept raised; this precludes the necessity of a specific command to lift the head; in the head-lifted position she has no choice but to bare her facial beauty to the viewer; too, her least expression may be read; too, of course, she can see who is in the room with her and is thus better able, even from the first instant, to discern his moods, anticipate his needs, and respond to his commands.

  I leaped to my feet, furious with the girl in the mirror. She lied! She lied! I fled to the wardrobe. I flung back the sliding doors. I was a Tatrix! I tore my yellow robe, that of brief silk, from its carved hanger. I put it on me, swiftly, angrily, belting it, tightly. I ran to the door leading from my quarters. I reached to the handle and jerked it wildly towards me. I had opened this door a hundred times. I cried out in surprise, in misery. This time it did not yield. I jerked twice again, both of my hands on the handle. The door, somehow, was fastened on the other side. It seemed, or something on it seemed, to strike against some obstacle or barrier.

  I struck at it, pounding on it. "Let me out!" I cried. "Let me out!"

  I heard two sliding sounds. On the other side, I knew, were four pairs of brackets. Never, however, as far as I knew, had they been used. Two of these pairs of brackets were on the door itself, one at the lower part of the door and one at the upper part. Matching them in height, but in the wall, were the other two pairs of brackets. One of these pairs, its members located on opposite sides of the door, corresponded to the upper-door brackets, and the other pair, its members opposite one another, one on each side of the door, corresponded to the lower-door brackets. The door was thus, if beams or bars were to be inserted through these brackets, prevented from swinging inward, its natural opening motion.

  The door opened. Five guards were there. Two of them I noted, at a glance, were laying heavy beams against the wall. It was these, then, obviously, which had secured the door.

  "The door was locked!" I said.

  "Yes, Lady," said the leader of the guards. He was of the third rank, like Drusus Rencius. He, like the others, seemed surprised. Obviously he had not expected to see me at this time of night, or this early in the morning.

  "Why was the door locked?" I demanded.

  "It is always locked at this time of nig
ht," he said.

  "Why?" I demanded.

  "Orders," said he.

  "Whose orders?" I asked.

  "Those of Ligurious," he said.

  "Why would such orders be given?" I asked.

  "It is custom," said the guard.

  "Why?" I asked.

  "To protect the Tatrix, I suppose," said he. "Surely we would not want her wandering about the palace at night."

  "There is danger in the palace?" I asked, angrily.

  The guard shrugged. "Perhaps an assassin might have gained entrance," he said.

  "I would be safe enough accompanied by guards, I am sure," I said.

  "At this Ahn," he said, "it is customary for the Tatrix to be within her quarters."

  "I am leaving them," I said. I made as though to brush past him. But his arm, like a bar of iron, barred my way. "No, Lady, forgive me," he said, "but you may not pass."

  I stepped back. I was startled.

  "I am Tatrix!" I said.

  "Yes, Lady," said he.

  "Get out of my way!" I said.

  "I am sorry," he said. "You may not pass."

  "Call Ligurious!" I said. I was determined to get to the bottom of this matter.

  "I cannot disturb the first minister at this Ahn," he said.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "He is with his women," said the man.

  "His women!" I said.

  "Yes, Lady," said the man.

  "I see," I said.

  "If you wish," said the guard, "I can call Drusus Rencius."

  "No," I said. "No." I then withdrew into the room. I saw the door close. Then, a moment or so later, I heard the two beams, one after the other, slid into place.

  "I am the Tatrix!" I screamed, angrily, from behind the door.

  I then took off the robe, angrily, and threw it to the tiles. I could not go out. What need did I have of it?

  Then, trembling, naked, with my finger tips, in the half darkness, in the moonlit room, I examined the door. I even felt the great hinges, with their pins, like rivets, on my side of the door. The lower ends of the pins had been spread, beaten wide, so that they could not be forced upwards, freeing them. I sank to my knees behind the door. I lifted my head and put my finger tips to the heavy wood. "I am the Tatrix," I whispered. Then I rose to my feet and went to the side of the great couch. I looked back to the mirror behind the vanity. I saw the frightened girl there. She was indisputably female, with all that that might entail on a world such as this.

  "I am the Tatrix," I whispered.

  Then I crept onto the great couch. I lay on my stomach on the couch, on the silk, near its foot. I supposed that sometimes girls might even be chained in such a place, like a dog at a man's feet, or perhaps even on the hard, cold tiles, under the slave ring.

  If I were so chained, I thought, I would quickly learn to be pleasing.

  What manner of world was this, I wondered, on which I found myself.

  It was a world, I thought, on which men had never relinquished their sovereignty, on which they had never submitted to the knives of psychic castration.

  From Earth, I could scarcely believe the men of this world, in their power and naturalness.

  Where were such men on Earth, I asked myself. They must exist there, some few perhaps, somewhere.

  Thousands, perhaps millions of women on Earth, I thought, must secretly pine for such men. How, without submitting themselves to such men, how without satisfying the complementary equations of sexuality, could their own femininity be fulfilled?

  I had wished to go forth in the palace. I had not been permitted to do so, by men. I was angry! But, too, I knew that there were other emotions, deeper emotions, unfamiliar and troubling emotions, uncontrollable emotions, that were welling up within me. These emotions frightened me, and pleased me. I had not been able to do what I wished. It had not been permitted by men. My will had been overridden. I had been forced to comply not with my own wishes but with those of others. I had had to obey.

  "I am a Tatrix!" I said, angrily. But I did not believe that it was a Tatrix which lay most deeply within me.

  "What am I?" I wondered.

  I rose on the couch to a position half sitting, half kneeling. I looked at the girl in the mirror, half sitting, half kneeling, as I was.

  "What are you?" I asked. "Are you a Tatrix?"

  She did not respond.

  "You do not look like a Tatrix," I told her. Again she did not respond.

  I then lowered myself to the couch and lay, again, on my stomach, near the foot of the couch. I recalled the girl in the mirror. I did not think she was so much different, truly, from the girls I had seen on the street, or those who had been chained on the cement shelves. I did not think that a man would think twice about it, for example, if he found her in a slave market.

  I was angry with Ligurious. I had been told he was with his "women."

  I wondered what it would be like to be one of his "women." Susan, I knew, was one of his women. She was half naked, branded and collared. She knelt before him, head down. She accorded him the utmost deference and respect.

  I wondered what it would be to be the woman of a man such as Ligurious. Suppose I did not please him, I said to myself. Would I be whipped? Yes, I said to myself, I would be whipped.

  "What am I?" I wondered.

  "I am a Tatrix," I responded.

  I saw then that it was near morning. I then fell asleep where I had lain down, near the bottom of the couch, near the chain and slave ring.

  5

  Miles of Argentum;

  Drusus Rencius Speculates on What I Might Bring as a Slave;

  I Have Obtained Greater Freedoms

  "The arrogant knave now approaching the throne," said Ligurious, whispering in my ear, "is Miles, an ambassador, and general, from Argentum."

  The fellow, approaching, coming up the long aisle toward the great dais, on which my throne reposed, had indeed a bold stride. In the crook of his left arm he carried a helmet, crested with sleen hair. Behind him swirled a huge cape of trimmed, white fur.

  "Remember that those of Argentum are our enemies, and the enemies, too, of our great ally, the island of Cos."

  "I remember," I said.

  "The men behind him," said Ligurious, "carry chests, filled with riches, to sue for your favor."

  "He seems not to approach so humbly," I said.

  "Brush back your robes a bit, so that he may better see you," said Ligurious.

  I did this.

  "Allow me," said Ligurious, "as these matters may be sensitive, to conduct this audience."

  "Of course," I said. I was relieved that Ligurious would do this for me. I knew matters were tense between Corcyrus and Argentum. I did not wish to commit any blunders which might reflect adversely on the throne. Ligurious would know what to do.

  I took an immediate dislike to the fellow approaching. He was from Argentum, our enemy.

  I straightened myself on the great throne of Corcyrus, on the high dais, in the great hall of the palace. Men of high councils were about me. Guards, too, were plentiful. My own guard, Drusus Rencius, now in resplendent regalia, fitting for the guard of a Tatrix, was nearby. About the throne, here and there, spilled on the steps of the dais, in the manner of Corcyrus and some other cities, was a tasteful display of riches, rich cloths, golden coins and some chained female slaves. Susan, who was to me as my personal serving slave, kneeling, in a brief, white, see-through lace tunic, was chained on my right, her chain, fastened on her neck, running to a ring on the throne.

  "Miles, Ambassador of Argentum, Miles, General of Argentum!" announced the herald.

  The men behind Miles put down the boxes they had brought. Doubtless new riches would soon grace the steps of the dais.

  "The throne of Corcyrus," said Ligurious, "greets the ambassador from Argentum, Miles, general of Argentum."

  "On behalf of Claudius, Ubar of Argentum," said Miles, "I accept the greetings of Corcyrus."

  "But do you not acce
pt them for yourself, as well?" inquired Ligurious.

  "Had I my will," he said, "I would have come to the walls of Corcyrus not with the scrolls of protest but the engines of war."

  "Beware the quickness of your tongue," said Ligurious, "for you rant now not in one of Argentum's taverns but in Corcyrus, and before the throne of her Tatrix."

  "Forgive me, noble Ligurious," said Miles. "I forgot myself. It was a natural mistake. In the taverns of Argentum we of Argentum are indeed accustomed to speaking freely before women such as your Tatrix. They are paga slaves."

  There were cries of rage about me.

  "Indeed," said he, "I have had many women far superior to your Tatrix in just such taverns. They served well in their chains, naked, in the pleasure alcoves."

  More than one blade about me slipped swiftly, menacingly, from its sheath.

  Miles did not budge, nor flinch, at the foot of the throne. He had a great shock of black hair. His piercing gray eyes rested upon me. I wished that I was veiled. I did not think he would ever forget what I looked like.

  "Your scrolls have been examined," said Ligurious. "I, the Tatrix, and those of the high councils, have scrutinized them with more care than they deserved. Their evidences are false, their arguments specious, their claims fraudulent."

  "Such a dismissal of their contents I expected," said Miles. "I myself would not have transmitted them. Better to have sent you the defiance of Argentum and a spear of war."

  I myself had examined the scrolls only in a sense. Excerpts had been read to me, with criticism, by Ligurious. His analysis of their contents, I did not doubt, was sound. He was a highly intelligent man, and familiar, clearly, with the geographical and political features of the problems. The issues had to do primarily with our silver mines, which, unfortunately, lay near Argentum. Force, it seemed, was required to protect them. These mines were said to be almost as rich as those of Tharna, far to the north and east of Corcyrus. The claim of Argentum, of course, was that the silver mines were theirs. My education, so full and exacting in many ways, was incomplete in at least one obvious and glaring detail. I had not been taught to read Gorean. I was illiterate in Gorean.