Mercenaries of Gor coc-21

by John Norman

  We passed a slave girl, kneeling, chained by the neck to a slave ring. It was fixed in the side of a building, fastened to a bolted plate, about a yard above the level of the street. Her face was stained with tears. She had her hands clutched desperately on the chain, near the ring. I did not know if her master had put her there, intending to return for her, or if she had been abandoned. She was naked. She would remain where she was. She was chained there. "Come along," said Mincon. We continued on, through the throngs. "Keep together," he said. We did so, as best we could. I was behind him, closely, and then came Hurtha, and then, close behind him, Boabissia. Behind Boabissia, ropes on their necks, the captor's termini of these hempen confinements in the grip of Hurtha, came Feiqa and Tula. How fearful they had been this morning to learn that the city had now a new master. How frightened they had been, exchanging glances. So, too, I supposed, might have been tharlarion and sleen, other forms of animals, if they, too, were aware of such things, or saw fit to consider them. Yet Feiqa and Tula, objectively, had far less to fear in the fall of a city than a free person. They had, objectively, little more to fear than other domestic animals. They presumably, like them, would merely find themselves with new masters. We had not put the tethers on Feiqa and Tula because we feared they might try to slip away from us in the crowds, but to keep them with us, to make certain that they were not swept from us, or perhaps seized and pulled away into the crowd. Near us we heard the bleating of a pair of domestic verr. A woman was pulling them along beside her in the throng. They, too, like Feiqa and Tula, had ropes on their necks.

  "It seems hard to make headway now," I said to Mincon.

  "The press is being held," he said. "There are several barriers. Then there are separated lines, leading to the great gate. There searches are made, lest it be attempted to carry valuables from the city."

  "The civilian population is being ejected from the city." I said.

  "Yes, he said. "Let us move ahead. One side, one side!"

  We moved slowly, single file, through the crowds.

  "Move aside," said Mincon.

  "Where are you taking us?" I asked.

  "To the Semnium," he said.

  "Why?" I asked. "It is my intention to obtain for you letters of safety," he said. "I would welcome such," I said.

  "You need not accept them," he said, turning about.

  "Why would I not desire such letters?" I asked.

  "The decision will be yours," he said.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "Follow me," he said, turning about, pressing once again through the crowd. We came then to a barrier, several poles on tripods, set across the main way in Torcadino. The crowd was arrested at this barrier. Some pressed back, against those behind them, to keep from being forced against it.

  "Hold," said a soldier, his spear held across his body, behind the barrier. Mincon uttered a password. The barrier was opened. It was a relief to walk freely. Some two hundred yards down the street we could see another segment of the crowd, it, too, doubtless, waiting behind some barrier. We then, in a few Ehn, passed that barrier, and then another.

  To one side, when we crossed the first of these second two barriers, there was a great pile of objects. In it were such things as furniture, cushions, rugs, wall hangings, tapestries, bolts of cloth, robes, clothes, chests, coffers, utensils, vessels, and plates. A soldier went to the pile and emptied a pillow-case out at its foot. I supposed that its spillage, a short, clattering rain of goblets, would scarcely be noticed in such an accumulation. Yet, doubtless, in just such a way had that mountain of artifacts been constructed. It was more than ten feet high. It was cheap booty, probably on the whole to be sold by contract to dealers.

  "Look!" said Boabissia, pointing ahead and to our left, as we crossed an intersection, that beyond the third barrier.

  There, some fifty yards away, kneeling, huddled together against the brick wall of a public building, the wall composed of the flat, narrow bricks common in southern Gorean architecture, was a group of some one hundred to one hundred and fifty females. They were naked. They were chained together by the neck. They were in the keeping of two soldiers, with whips.

  "More booty," said Mincon.

  "Slaves!" said Boabissia disparagingly, in disgust.

  "Or to be slaves," said Mincon.

  "Oh," said Boabissia, frightened.

  "Surely they are slaves," I said.

  "Many," said Mincon, "are the women, and daughters, of those who were adherents of Cos in Torcadino. They, thus, have been apprehended for branding and bondage."

  "I see," I said.

  "Their seizure lists were prepared weeks ago," he said.

  "Of course," I said. An action of the sort now accomplished in Torcadino, in which judicious selections and discriminations are to be made among the civilian populace, necessitates a sensitive preparation.

  We were now closer to the women.

  One of them stood but, immediately, the lash fell upon her, and she returned to her knees, sobbing. "Hands on thighs," called the soldier, "spread your knees, back straight, chin up!" He pushed up her chin with the coiled whip. She looked straight ahead, tears streaming down her face. "You will be struck twice more," he said. She cried out in misery, twice, each time shaken, each time almost thrown forward on her belly to the pavement. The blows were perfunctory, but, I suppose, to the one who receives them, they seemed intensely personal and meaningful. "Position," said the soldier. She resumed the position to which she had been earlier commanded, promptly and exactly. In her eyes now, with their tears, there was also fear and contrition. Now that we were closer I could see that the women were all on a single chain, fastened on it by side-loops, of the same chain, secured with sturdy padlocks. It is a simple, practical, inexpensive arrangement. On the upper portion of their left breasts there were numbers written.

  "Oh!" said a bound girl, being brought to the group.

  "Oh!" said Boabissia, at the same time. She had turned about, from watching the disciplining of the neck-chained girl, and struck against the new girl. "Clumsy slave!" cried Boabissia, angrily. Twice then, angrily, she struck the new girl with the sides of her small fists. The new girl was, by the solider in whose custody she was, thrust rudely to the pavement before Boabissia, his hand in her hair, forcing her head down to Boabissia's sandals. "Beg forgiveness!" he said.

  "Forgive me! Forgive me!" wept the new girl.

  " "Forgive me, what?" asked the soldier, tightening his grip in her hair. "Forgive me, Mistress!" wept the new girl, her head down, her back bent forward, her small hands twisting helplessly in the cords that held them behind her back. "Clumsy slave!" scolded Boabissia.

  "Forgive me, Mistress," wept the girl. As far as I could see the new girl was not a slave. She was, at least, neither branded nor collared. On the other hand, doubtless she was destined to soon receive those lovely adornments proclamatory of the uncompromising condition of Gorean bondage, those adornments which so enhance the beauty of a woman, those adornments significatory that all institutional niceties pertinent to her bondage have been properly and legally completed. Accordingly, the fellow was doubtless being quite merciful, and helpful, to the female. He was preparing her, in a small way, not for what it would be her role in life, but for what in her new life would be her total and uncompromising actuality.

  "Kiss her feet," said the soldier.

  Obediently the frightened girl kissed Boabissia's feet, desperately, fervently. "Clumsy slave," said Boabissia, angrily.

  "Please forgive me, Mistress," wept the girl.

  The soldier drew up her head and bent her backwards, before Boabissia. "Shall I kill her for you? he asked. I saw the girl had a number, like the others, written on the upper portion of her left breast, I gathered that he had been sent to pick her up, and to mark her with that number. It had to do with records.

  "No," said Boabissia. "That will not be necessary."

  The soldier pulled the girl up straight, and released her hair. She remained
kneeling before us, her head down. "Thank you, Mistress," she whispered. "Sir," said the soldier, suddenly straightening his body.

  "Lift you head and throw your hair behind your back, girl," said the officer, newly arrived, come up from the side, with a backing board and sheaf of papers. "Put your head back as far as it will go," Immediately the girl complied. The officer then, there being no impediments now to his vision, checked the number on her left breast. He then referred to his papers, turning some over. "Name, female?" he asked the girl.

  She began to shudder.

  "Speak up, quickly, while you still have one," he said.

  The soldier kicked her.

  "Euphrosyne, Lady of Torcadino," she gasped.

  "Family, and caste?" he inquired.

  "Daughter of the matron Aglaia, Lady of Torcadino," she said, "of the Myrtos lineage, she high in the trade of spices, Confirmation Treasurer of the Spice Council of Torcadino, She of the Merchants."

  "Ah, yes," said the officer. "I believe your mother is already on the chain." The girl looked about, wildly. Doubtless she would have covered her breasts, and nakedness, if she could have. What a foolish gesture in one who was soon to be a slave.

  "I do not know if you will see her again, or not," he said, "except perhaps at a distance. Too, fraternization may not be permitted between slaves.

  "I am not a slave," she moaned.

  "Now," he said, for a moment or two more you may think of yourself as Euphrosyne, as your mother was hitherto permitted for a time to think of herself as Aglaia. In a time, of course, you may receive new names. "Euphrosyne' is a name a bit too fine, I think, for a slave. You will probably soon become something else, perhaps a «Puta or a "Sita." In the meantime, you are, for our purposes, and for your own purposes, Four-three-seven. That is your capture name, and you will think of yourself only as that. You may not inquire as to the former names of others nor reveal to them, even if they should ask, your own. Similarly, you may not make inquiries pertaining to such things as their families, stations and castes, nor reveal to others, even if asked, any such information pertaining to yourself. You are merely, and simply the captive Four-three-seven. Your mother, incidentally, is Two-six-one. You are now to think of her, as she is now to think of herself, as only that. She was more important than you, and thus has an earlier number."

  Four-three-seven, of course, was the number written on the girl's left breast. As her number was 437 and there were only some one hundred or one hundred and fifty or so females in the chain, near the wall, I assumed there was probably one or more collection points elsewhere, perhaps nearer the Semnium, the Council Hall. On the other hand perhaps there were merely more females to come in. The numbers, it seemed, were prearranged numbers, and not merely numbers indicating the order of capture. The officer, for example already had had her number on his list, probably with her name. In this fashion, the girls being added to the chain as captured, this chain, or any others, might have diverse numbers upon it. I had gathered, for example, from what the officer had said, that the girl's mother, number 261 on the list, was somewhere in this very chain, which would have been unlikely if its prisoners were being added to it in a strict numerical sequence. A strict numerical order, if desired, of course, could always be set up later, at the leisure of the captors. In the meantime, it was the list that was crucial.

  The officer looked down at the girl. "You may bring your head forward," he said. Gratefully, she did so.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  "Euphrosyne, Lady of Torcadino", she sobbed.

  He looked at her, reprovingly.

  "Four-three-seven!" she said quickly.

  "Anything else?" he asked.

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "No!"

  The soldier then pulled her to her feet by the hair and thrust her before him, toward the chain. In a moment she was on the chain, kneeling, her throat snugly enclosed in a side-loop of the same chain, it fastened shut on her by a padlock. "Do you expect to find all the women on your seizure lists?" I asked the officer.

  "Most of them," he said. "Doubtless some will elude us, at least for a time." "Many," said Mincon, "will be apprehended at the gates. They will not know they were on the lists. They will then be stripped, bound, marked with their number and brought to a collection point."

  "After tomorrow, too," said the officer, "unauthorized civilians will not be permitted within the walls. The penalty for the unauthorized male will be swift and honorable execution, that for the unauthorized female being fed to sleen, or, if she is comely enough, and zealous enough to please, perhaps bondage." "There is little point in trying to hide in the city," said Mincon. "Eventually all the houses will be searched. Too, when they are hungry enough they will creep out at night to seek food. They may then, sooner or later, with the aid of tracking sleen, be taken."

  "I see," I said.

  "With the nature of Torcadino," said the officer, "the walls, and our control of the city, it is highly unlikely, sooner or later, that we will have every one of the women on our list."

  I nodded. The listed females, under the particular circumstances currently prevailing in Torcadino, had little chance of escape. To be sure, many were not yet female slaves. For most practical purposes, for the Gorean female slave, properly identified, branded and collared, there is no escape. If she escapes from one master, which is exceedingly unlikely, she will doubtless soon find herself in the chains of another, and one who is perhaps worse. Certainly the new master will know that she is an escaped slave and will be likely to treat her with great harshness and keep her under the strictest confinements. He will probably make certain, as well, that sleen have her scent. Too, the penalties for running away can be severe, in the second case generally involving being fed to sleen or being hamstrung, to be used perhaps thereafter as a begging slave. "What is to be done with these women?" I asked the officer.

  "Most of them will be sold in lots to contractors," he said.

  "Like much of the other loot?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said. "The general contracts, for pickups of loot, projected quantities, and such, were let weeks ago."

  "Of course," I said.

  I noted one of the soldiers. He moved about, here and there within the chain lines, among the women. Occasionally he would put his whip before the lips of one of them. She would then kiss it.

  "But some of these females are quite beautiful." I said.

  "For example, 437 is extremely lovely."

  "Her mother, 261, is also quite lovely." He said. "Certain of these women, of course, the better ones, like the more expensive loot, will not go to the contractors, but will be kept for distribution, the less beautiful ones to the troops, the more beautiful ones to the officers."

  I nodded. These arrangements were typical.

  "I have already made notations with respect to several of them," he said, indicating his papers, "including 437 and 261. In advance of course, when one enters them, if at all, only in the robes of concealment, one does not know which are the most beautiful."

  "Such determinations now, of course," I said, "may be easily made." "Yes," he said.

  I regarded the women. For the past weeks, they had been going about their business, ignorantly, naively, unsuspectingly, totally unaware of how they might be included as humble objects in the plans of masters. Doubtless they had given much attention to the matters of their day, to their various competitions, pursuits, vanities, occupations and concerns. All that time they did not know that already, in dried, indelible ink, their names were recorded on seizure lists. I observed them. They knelt, chained. On the upper portion of the left breast of each was number. It was the number which had followed their name on the seizure lists. That number was theirs. It had been theirs for weeks. But only now, to their horror, did they learn so, and find it literally inscribed on their bodies.

  I saw the soldier hold the whip before 437. She bent forward and kissed it. "Come along," said Mincon. "We must go to the Semnium."

  We then
followed him, Hurtha and I, and Boabissia, the hempen leashes of Tula and Feiqa in the grasp of Hurtha.

  14 The Semnium; The Outer Office

  "These are new bodies, fresh bodies," I said.

  "Of course," said Mincon.

  We were at the foot of the low, broad steps of the Semnium, the hall of the high council, which building, it seemed, might now serve as the headquarters of the new masters of Torcadino. These steps extended before the building, for the entire length of its portico.

  "Who are they?" I asked.

  There were some two to three hundred new bodies hung now from tarred ropes along the Avenue of Adminius, in the vicinity of the Semnium.

  "Collaborators, traitors, men who were of the party of Cos, betrayers of the alliance with Ar, and such," said Mincon.

  "As those earlier were similarly adherents of Ar?" I asked.

  "Perhaps," said Mincon.

  "Some of those here," I said, regarding the dismal lines of bodies, dangling in the tarred halters, "are perhaps the same as those who had been active in bringing about the downfall of those who hung here formerly."

  "Of course," said Mincon.

  "The winds have shifted in Torcadino," I said.

  "Yes," said Mincon.

  "It seems your captain is in the pay of Ar." I said.

  "Of that you may judge yourself," he said, "shortly."

  "I?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "Follow me," he said. I then, and the others, followed him up the steps of the Semnium. I stopped once, at the entrance, to look back, at the bodies. I briefly recalled the girl at the chain, 437, and her mother, 261. Her mother, before her capture, I had gathered, had been important, having been the confirmation treasurer of one of Torcadino's commercial councils, the Spice Council. She had also, in her position, I had gathered, and doubtless by her influence and acts, supported the cause of Cos. This inclination, incidentally, is not all that uncommon among individuals whose fortunes tend to be intimately involved in such matters as importation and exportation, the location and exploitation of foreign markets, and, in general, the overseas trade, the Thassa and island trade. This is understandable. The navies of Tyros and Cos, for most practical purposes command the green waves of gleaming Thassa. They control many of the most familiar and practical trade corridors. Few coasts are free from their patrols. Few ports could scorn their blockades. 261, however, aside from all such considerations, was a citizeness of Torcadino, and Torcadino had been sworn to the cause of Ar. She had, it seemed, for whatever reason, presumably opportunism or greed, betrayed the pledge of her Home Stone. In the case of a man this can be a capital offense. She was not a man, however but a female. It was thus, doubtless, that she had not been placed on a proscription list, but only on a seizure list. It was her sex which had saved her. Had she been a man she would have been hung.