present. Present, too, of course, were Hura and Mira, Verna’s enemies. When we
had all gathered about, there was a silence.
It was in the late afternoon. A bird cried in the distance. There was not much
stir in the air. It was hot.
Verna looked up at Marlenus, proudly, defiantly.
“Remove her bonds,” said Marlenus.
She looked up at him, startled. A huntsman, one of Marlenus’ retinue, cowled in
the head of a forest panther, stepped behind her. With his sleen knife he freed
the girl’s arms and hands.
She still knelt, apprehensive.
“Who are you?” asked Marlenus.
“I am Verna,” she said, “the outlaw.”
Then, to her astonishment, and that of all those watching, saving the Ubar
himself, Marlenus took the key to her collar from his pouch. He opened the
collar and replaced the key in his pouch. He then removed the collar from her
throat and cast it to one side, in the dirt.
She looked up at him, puzzled.
“Hamstring the outlaw,” he said.
“No!” she cried. She leaped to her feet but two huntsmen, cowled in the heads of
forest panthers, seized her by the arms. “No! No!” she screamed.
“May we go, Ubar?” pleaded Hura. Mira, too, wanted to rush to the gate.
“Remain where you are,” said Marlenus.
The two women, frightened, did not move.
“Ubar!” screamed Verna. “Ubar!”
At a gesture from Marlenus the shreds of pleasure silk which still clung to her
were torn from her by two huntsmen, they, too, like the others, cowled in the
heads of forest panthers.
She stood before him, free of his collar, stripped, held by huntsmen.
Hanging is a not uncommon penalty in the northern forests for outlawry. Another
such penalty, not infrequently inflicted, is hamstringing.
“No, Ubar!” she said. “Please, Ubar!”
In hamstringing the two large tendons behind each knee are cut. The legs my then
no longer be contracted. They are then useless. No longer can the subject walk
or run, or ever stand erect.
The subject is, however, not without resource. He can, though it requires
strength, and it is awkward and painful, drag himself about by the hands.
When an individual is hamstrung he is often taken to a city where he is left,
that he may, if he can, earn his living by begging. Sometimes tavern keepers
gather several such unfortunates together, enslave them, and keep their beggings
for themselves. A slave with a tharlarion wagon puts them about the city in the
morning and picks them up at night. Sometimes the tavern keepers blind or
mutilate them as well, that they be more piteous, and their earnings accordingly
increased.
Verna was looking at Marlenus with horror.
“Let the outlaw be hamstrung,” said Marlenus.
Two huntsmen threw Verna forward, holding her head toward the ground. Two others
held her legs, somewhat higher, stretching them out.
I saw the tendons, beautiful, taut, behind her knees.
A fifth huntsman, at a sign from Marlenus, stepped behind the girl. He removed
the sleen knife from its sheath. I saw the edge of the blade touch the right
tendon.
“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman!”
“No,” said Marlenus. “You are an outlaw.”
“I am a woman!” screamed Verna. “I am a woman! I am a woman!”
“No,” said Marlenus. “You have only a body of a woman. inside your body you are
a man.”
“No!” she wept. “No! Inside I am a woman! I am woman!”
“Is it true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, yes!” wept Verna.
“You acknowledge yourself a female then,” asked Marlenus, “within as well as
without.”
“Yes,” cried Verna. “I am a female!”
“Completely?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” cried Verna, “I am completely a female.”
“And not a man as well?” pressed Marlenus.
“I am completely and only a female,” wept Verna.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “it seems we should not hamstring you as an outlaw.”
Verna’s body shuddered with relief. She shook in the arms of her captors.
But they did not release her.
“Then,” said Marlenus, “you may be hamstrung for being an escaped slave girl.”
Terror sprang anew into Verna’s eyes.
It was true. The second penalty for an escaping girl, one who has fled before,
is not uncommonly hamstringing. I had seem hamstrung girls, begging, piteous in
the streets of Ar. It was not a pleasant sight.
“Hamstring the slave,” said Marlenus.
“Master!” screamed Verna. “Master!”
Marlenus hand indicated that the knife, poised, hesitate. The words that she had
spoken stunned us, all save Marlenus. She had called him Master.
The huntsmen held the slave.
“Please, Master!” wept Verna. “Do not hurt me! Do not hurt me!”
“The slave begs for mercy,” said one of the huntsmen.
“Is this true?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes, Master,” wept Verna. “I am yours. I am your girl. I am your slave. I beg
for mercy. I beg for mercy, Master!”
“Release her,” said Marlenus. The huntsmen resheathed his sleen knife. The
others released the girl. She knelt on the ground, her head down, her hair
forward, her shoulders and body shaking, trembling with terror.
The other girls, too, were frightened. Verna’s girls, in their panther skins,
chained by their right ankle. Hura, and Mira, too, were shaken.
Verna had been shattered. Her pride, her obstinacy were gone.
She looked up at Marlenus, as a slave girl looks to the eyes of a master.
She knew then she was his.
Without being told, she went to the collar, lying in the dirt, which Marlenus
had cast aside. Trembling, she picked it up and knelt before Marlenus. She
handed him the collar. There were tears in her eyes.
Marlenus wiped the collar on his sleeve. A length of binding cord was brought.
Verna knelt back on her heels. She lifted her arms to Marlenus, wrists crossed.
She lowered her head between her arms.
“I submit myself,” she said.
The collar was locked on her throat. Her hands were tied.
She lowered her bound wrists and lifted her head to Marlenus. “I am your girl,”
she said, “Master.”
Marlenus turned to a subordinate. “Have her cleaned and combed,” he said. “And
perfume her.”
She put down her head.
“Then put her in yellow pleasure silk,” he said, “fresh silk, and place bells on
her left ankle.”
“Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
Marlenus was regarding the slave who knelt before him, her head down.
“And have her ears pierced,” said Marlenus, “and fix in them earrings of gold,
large ones.”
“Yes, Ubar,” said the man.
The slave, conquered, did not so much as lift her head. It would be done to her,
what her master wished.
“And tonight,” said Marlenus, “when she is sent to my tent, see that she wears
lipstick.”
“It will be done as you say, Ubar,” said the man. He looked down at Verna. “Come
with me, Girl,” he said.
“Yes
, Master,” she said, and was led away.
I recalled the flaminium, in the grip of Marlenus.
“These other slaves,” said Marlenus, indicating Verna’s former girls, “take them
away.”
Frightened, on their chain, they were herded away. There was not one of them but
what knew that what had happened to Verna might have happened to any one of
them. I suspected that each of them would be very conscious that night of the
ring locked on their right ankle, and the chain that fastened them to the two
stakes.
“May we leave, Ubar?” asked Hura.
Marlenus looked upon Hura and Mira. They were very conscious that they were
women that stood among men.
“Yes,” said Marlenus.
The two women, in their brief skins, hurried to the gate, which was opened to
let them pass. Outside, the panther girls were waiting for them. Hura, Mira, and
Hura’s band swiftly disappeared in the forest.
They did not remain long in the vicinity of the camp of Marlenus, Ubar of Ar.
”Think, Ubar,” I said, “that I choose to return to my ship soon, at the banks of
the Laurius.”
“You are welcome to leave when you wish,” said Marlenus, “but enjoy my
hospitality another day.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Do we not have a game
on the board?”
“Yes,” I smiled. “We do.” I had almost forgotten the game we had scarcely begun,
before we had heard the cry at the gate, heralding Hura’s return of an escaped
slave girl.
At the entrance to Marlenus’ tent, I stopped.
Marlenus looked at me.
“Ubar,” said I, “if the girl Verna had not cried out for mercy, if she had not
wept and yielded herself, completely and utterly, to you as slave, would you
have truly done what you threatened?”
“I do not understand,” said Marlenus.
“Would you truly have hamstrung her?” I asked.
“Of course,” said Marlenus. “I am a Ubar.”
“When you leave,” said Marlenus, regarding the board, “it is my wish that you go
to your ship.”
It was his move.
“That is my intention,” I said.
“It is not my wish,” said Marlenus, “that you fare forth to an exchange point to
set free a former citizen of Ar.”
“I understand,” I said.
“I, as her former Ubar, will treat of that business,” said Marlenus. She had
much shamed him. I did not envy the girl, Talena.
“What is your intention with regard to her?” I asked.
“She will be kept in Ar,” he said.
“I see,” I said.
Marlenus looked up. “Put her from your mind,” he said. “She is unworthy of a
free man.”
I nodded. It was true what he had said. Talena, once the beautiful daughter of a
great Ubar, shamed and disowned, was now nothing. No longer did she have family.
No longer did she have position, wealth and power. She was now nothing. She now
had only her beauty, and that wore a brand. Even if she were freed, she would
not, in virtue of the disownment, have a caste. The lowest peasant wench on Gor,
secure in her caste rights, would be far above her. Talena, once the marvelous
and beautiful Talena, was now nothing. She was nothing, nothing.
No longer was she a desirable match. No longer was she acceptable, no longer was
she suitable.
She was nothing.
Marlenus and I, Goreans, sat across the board from one another.
“A slave, said a man, standing outside the tent.
“Send her in,” said Marlenus, studying the board. I looked up.
Verna was stunningly beautiful. Her hair, long and blond, was loosed and combed
back. she wore a bit of yellow pleasure silk, very short and diaphanous. It
clung to her, sweet with her breathing. On her left ankle, locked, were slave
bells. I caught the scent of her perfume, a delicate Torian scent, feminine. She
wore lipstick. She carried wine.
She was one of the most beautiful female slaves I had ever seen.
Marlenus lifted his head and regarded her. Her breathing quickened.
“Put down the wine,” said Marlenus, “and step before us.”
The girl did so.
“Lift your hair away from your ears,” said Marlenus, “and turn your head from
side to side.”
Verna displayed the earrings, large and gold, which had been fastened in her
ears.
They were beautiful.
“Remove the silk,” said Marlenus, ”and face us.”
The slave did so.
She stood beautifully. She did not stand as might have Cara, or another girl,
who had well known the touch of a man, but she did stand as though owned. The
resistance was gone from her shoulders and diaphragm. Even the palms of her
hands, naturally now fell at her thighs, her left palm over her brand. She had
not been taught to stand in this fashion. The difference, subtle and
interesting, had been accomplished in the enslavement of the afternoon.. Now,
naturally, unaware of it, she stood as a slave girl. She knew now she stood
before the man who was her complete master, open to him, his slave. She stood as
a slave, because she now knew herself as a slave, and this knowledge was
reflected, inevitably, in her stance. It was natural that she now stand as a
slave. She was a slave.
“Turn,” said Marlenus.
Verna did so, gracefully, obediently. She stood, facing away from us.
“You see?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” I said.
Verna knew that she was beautiful. Moreover, she knew that her beauty was now
being surveyed, candidly, by two free men. I could sense, in her breathing, and
her carriage, that this excited her. It may well have excited her, for she was a
mere slave, and belonged to one of the men present. A girl in a collar, as it is
said, is not permitted inhibitions.
We observed her.
She stood on the ball of her left foot. The left leg was slightly, subtly,
flexed, and her right leg was flexed, too, and much more than the left. Her head
was turned slightly to the right, as though she might wish, did she dare, to
look over her right shoulder. I noted the hamstrings. They were not tight. They
were lovely, beautifully resilient. Marlenus played a savage game. I was pleased
that they had not bee severed.
“You see?” asked Marlenus.
“Yes,” I said.
“There is now a readiness,” said Marlenus. “She is still a raw girl, an ignorant
girl, but now there is a readiness.”
I nodded. “Face us,” said Marlenus.
“Yes, Master,” said Verna. I marveled. Her lips were parted. She faced Marlenus.
I saw her breathing. She was excited. A girl in a collar is not permitted
inhibitions. Simply standing before her master, in his collar, she was visibly
excited. I could scarcely conjecture the helplessness and violence of her
responses to Marlenus, should he deign to touch her.
“Do you sense in yourself a readiness,” Marlenus asked her, “to serve as a slave
girl?”
“Yes,” she said, “yes, Master!”
“Clothe yourself,” said Marlenus.
Unsteadily, tears in her eyes, she did so.
Marlenus’ attention was again upon the boar
d of the game.
“Ubara’s Builder to Ubara’s Builder Nine,” said Marlenus. He moved the piece.
I responded to this with Scribe to Ubara’s Builder Two.
Marlenus looked up. He glanced at the girl, absently.
“Serve us wine,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I observed the board.
I wondered at women. It seems that they, in reality, care for tender, loving
men, who treat them with great consideration and solicitude. Yes, in their
dreams, it seems they find themselves forced to surrender, totally, to fierce,
dominating masters, who insolently and cruelly, though often with ironic
courtesy and tenderness, exact from their bodies, over a period of hours, every
last minute sensation of response of which their bodies are capable, strong men,
warriors, who, patiently, permit them no shield, who permit them to withhold
nothing, who permit them to save not a particle of their honor, who will force
them to yield themselves totally, helplessly, in complete and utter surrender.
Gorean culture, of course, differs greatly from Earth culture. On Gor, for
better or for worse, the reality in which a woman, terrified, might find herself
is not altogether unlike that of her feared dreams on Earth, but on Gor it is
not a dream; it is as real as the steel of slave bracelets and the commanding
touch of a master.
I looked at Marlenus of Ar.
He was lost in the game, his attention on the board. I had not thought much of
it before, but I now realized that he must be attractive, enormously attractive,
to women. He was broad and strong. He was fierce and highly intelligent. He was
as insolent, and rugged and handsome as the crags of the mighty Voltai. He was
uncompromising; he was powerful; he was wealthy’ he controlled cities and men’
he was a tarnsman, master of the great, predatory saddlebirds of Gor. He had
taken, and owned many women. He seemed a natural master of female flesh. Many
women, just seeing him, had a spontaneous desire to yield to him. Some high-born
beauties of Ar, I knew, had begged for his collar.
“Ubara to Ubara Four,” said Marlenus.
I moved my Ubar’s Physician to my Ubara Six, interposing it between the Ubara
and the Home Stone.
Marlenus and I watched her pour the wine. She poured it differently than she had
before. She knelt, her head down, the hair forward. I could see it in her
shoulders. She, a slave girl, poured wine for masters. That she was owned was
Norman, John - Gor 08 - Hunters of Gor.txt Page 21