Witness of Gor

by John Norman

  To be sure, there is nothing inconsistent in this possibility. I supposed that a woman might, in theory, believe that she, say, because she deserved it, or because it was appropriate for her, was destined to slavery by the Priest-Kings. Perhaps she would accept this in virtue of the supposed wisdom of Priest-Kings. Or, even if she thought this a mere whim, or even an arbitrary decision on their part, merely to demonstrate their power, she might reconcile herself to it, indeed, soon joyously submitting to, and accepting, what she takes to be her decreed fate. Some such belief, I supposed, might assist her in her adjustment to bondage. On the other hand, I think that any reference to the will of the Priest-Kings in these matters is both unnecessary and misleading. Incidentally, I have never personally known a slave on this world who brought the Priest-Kings into these matters. We do not want our bondage, our joy in servitude, our submission, our love, demeaned by attributing it to something alien, something other than ourselves, something outside of ourselves, such as the will of the Priest-Kings, if such should exist. It is too close to us, too intimate to us, too meaningful to us, to be cheapened in that way. It depends not on Priest-Kings, you see, but on what we are, women.

  "Our offerings have been accepted, our prayers have been heard," he said.

  Now it seemed that these Initiates or at least he who appeared to be chief amongst them was implicitly suggesting that the success of the expedition might well be attributed to their offerings, doubtless ultimately supplied by the faithful, and their prayers, uttered in the safety of their temple precincts. I looked up to see the faces of some of the raiders. Those faces, some of them so young, seemed solemn. Did they not think their own efforts had been efficacious in these matters? Who, after all, rode the mighty tarns, who did battle, who risked their lives, who, sword in hand, bestrode the corridors of burning palaces? And how must such words sound to the lovely captives? Surely they, if none others, must know who it was who gagged and bound them in their beds, and carried them off, surely they must know who caught them, and flung them down and put chains on them, who fought over them with curses, with sweat and steel, who carried them helpless through the smoke of burning houses to waiting tarns. Surely they were under no delusions as to who it was who fastened them on their backs over saddles, who thrust them naked into the cage baskets.

  "Let us again give thanks to the Priest-Kings!" cried the gaunt figure.

  "Thanks be to the Priest-Kings," said the crowd.

  I noticed that one of the robed, shaved-headed boys, the one with the bells, was eyeing one of the captives. She was one of those in the lines. She was a small brunette. Her hands twisted a little behind her, in the shackles. She might have been a little younger than he. I did not think she was aware of his gaze.

  I did not scorn the lad for noticing her. If anything, I was pleased he had. It made him seem a little more human. To be sure, I supposed that he had best watch his step. Too, she had best watch hers. Though she was now a free woman, she was a stripped captive, and would doubtless soon be a slave. If he became involved with her I had little doubt that it would not be he, but it would be she, particularly if she were a slave, who would be found at fault. In such a case I do not think any of her sisters in bondage would envy her. The seduction of such a fellow, I supposed, would count as a terrible offense, one perhaps endangering even the city itself. But perhaps he would leave the caste before it was too late, if it were not already too late, before, say, he took his final vows, or performed whatever act or acts it might be by means of which his entry into the caste might be effected. Perhaps, before he became much older, he would come to understand that there were two sexes, really, and that they are formed by nature, each in its own way, for the other. The caste of Initiates, incidentally, provides a socially acceptable refuge for men who may not wish, for one reason or another, to relate to women. It is probably a kindness for a society to provide mercies of this sort. This observation is not intended to reflect on the caste as a whole. It is my surmise, incidentally, that the great majority of Initiates, for better or for worse, abide by, and respect, the regulations of their caste.

  The gaunt figure now lifted his grasping, crooked hands to the clouds. "Praise be to the Priest-Kings!" he again called.

  "Praise be to the Priest-Kings," repeated the crowd, a low murmur.

  "May the blessings of the Priest-Kings be upon you," said the gaunt figure.

  "Praise be to the Priest-Kings," said again the crowd.

  The gaunt figure then turned a little to his left, to the crowd on his left, and made a wide circling gesture with his right hand. This was done in such a manner that I gathered that something of profound importance was to be understood as taking place. He then faced the crowd before him, directly, and solemnly repeated this gesture. This circular gesture, it seems, reminiscent of the circle surmounting the staff, the symbol of eternity, was the "sign of the Priest-Kings." He was, in effect, blessing the crowd. I wondered if the Priest-Kings would be pleased to have such a fellow, and in such a manner, blessing crowds in their name. To be sure, why should they object? After all, what would it be to them?

  The gaunt figure now turned to his right, toward my portion of the crowd.

  "Head down, slave girl," whispered the man behind me.

  Quickly I thrust my head down to the stones. It behooves a slave girl to be careful of whose eyes she meets, and how she meets them. We must be careful of looking too boldly into the eyes of our superiors, in particular, unknown free men or women. Brazenness can be cause for discipline. We do not wish to be punished. This is not to deny, of course, the expected and appropriate meetings of eyes in thousands of contexts and times, as in attempting to read one's fate in the eyes of the master, in examining them to learn if one is in favor or disfavor, in meeting them when commanded to do so, as when he examines us to see if we are lying, or when he wishes us to see the sternness in his eyes, that he is displeased, as in trying to read his will, that we may serve him better, as in looking up at him in rapture, squirming in his power, as in gazing into his eyes, on lonely beaches and in sheltered glades, with love. But if it can be dangerous for a slave to look too boldly into the eyes of a mere stranger, if such can invite a kick or a cuff, or even a whipping, imagine how wary one would be of meeting, and how one would fear to meet, the eyes of one such as the gaunt figure, the eyes of one seemingly unbalanced, eyes in which, it seemed, only too clearly blazed vanity, cruelty, and madness. I sensed, from the time involved, and from tiny movements, and adjustments, of those about, that the gaunt figure was now no longer facing us. He was through now, it seemed, with our part of the crowd. I lifted my head a little. He was again facing the center of the crowd.

  "It is now time to demonstrate your gratitude to the Priest-Kings," said the gaunt figure.

  "Perhaps that might be done by filling up the golden bowls," speculated a fellow, under his breath.

  "Hush!" said a frightened free woman.

  "The Priest-Kings love a generous giver," said the gaunt figure.

  "Certainly the High Initiate does," said the fellow.

  "Be quiet," said the woman, terrified.

  Half of the twenty or so Initiates went then to the raiders, moving amongst them, holding up the golden bowls. I saw coins, and jewels, and jewelry dropped into the bowls. The other half of the Initiates then began to move amongst the crowd. The crowd, too, or, at least, many of its members, put coins, usually single coins, or coins of smaller denomination, in the bowls. These were fetched from purses, from wallets and pouches. Most Gorean garments, other than those of artisans, do not contain pockets.

  One of the Initiates was then in our vicinity. I heard coins dropped among others.

  The Initiate was careful to avoid me, and, indeed, even free women. They might, however, drop a coin into the proffered bowl from a gloved hand, touching neither the bowl nor the Initiate. There was no injunction, it seemed, against accepting such donations.

  The man behind me put a coin in the golden bowl.

&nbs
p; "You will see, I trust," said one of the fellows in the crowd, "that this coin is turned over to the Priest-Kings, and does not end up in the temple coffers."

  "I did not know the Priest-Kings needed money," said another fellow.

  "I wonder what they will buy with this," said another.

  "Be quiet!" said the free woman.

  The Initiate himself made no response to these remarks. He may not even have understood them. I did note that the fellows who were engaged in this raillery did, all of them, however, place their coins in the bowl. They were, I suspected, taking no chances. What if, for example, as an outside possibility, but one they were not willing to discount, there might be some mysterious connection between the Initiates and the Priest-Kings? Why not, then, put a coin in the bowl, particularly if it were not too valuable a coin? As far as I can determine, most people on this world do, in fact, believe in the existence of Priest-Kings. On the other hand, it seems, also, that they generally regard them as being very far away and not being very interested, if interested at all, in the affairs of human beings. In short, they do not dispute the existence of the Priest-Kings but do not, on the whole at least, depend upon them in any practical way.

  The Initiates then reformed their double line and, bells ringing and smoke wafting about, fragrant, from the censer, took their way from the docking area. To be sure, there was at least one significant difference between the procession as it had arrived and the procession as it left. The twenty or so golden bowls which had come empty to the docking area were now leaving it heavy with coin, with jewels and jewelry. Certainly, of the raiders and the Initiates, it seemed the Initiates had had the safer, easier part of things. Indeed, to obtain their share of the riches, they had not even had to leave the safety of the city. Also, it had not even taken them a great deal of time, only a few minutes, really. To be sure, parties of this size, with the bars sounding and such, were presumably rare on the loading docks. For the most part the Initiates would have to make do with what they could obtain from other sources, such as the wages of workers. While not engaged in obtaining their livelihood from more productive elements in society, Initiates, as I understand it, spend a great deal of time in self-purification. In this, interestingly, the study of mathematics seems to be essentially involved. It is not only women, incidentally, which are forsworn by Initiates but also, interestingly, beans. I am unfamiliar with the historical origins of these matters.

  "They are gone!" said a man, relievedly.

  The presence of Initiates, I have noted, tends to have a somewhat depressing effect on most people. It is generally a relief when they have taken their way elsewhere. Most men of this world, it seems, would prefer that they confine themselves to the precincts of their temples. The uneasiness which many feel in the presence of the Initiates is that which, or is very similar to that which, I think, many feel in the presence of forces, explicit or implicit, which they sense are inimical to life.

  The musicians in the crowd were now again striking up a tune. The hawkers were again at work, calling out the nature and virtues of their goods. I again rose to my feet.

  I had come here for a specific reason, of course, not merely for the pleasure of participating in the celebration. With my purpose in mind I considered the lines of captives. I was sure that any one of several would do.

  "Congratulations, lads!" a man called to the raiders.

  Some, seeing him in the crowd, lifted their hand, waving to him.

  "Apricots! Apricots!" called a vendor.

  "Pastries!" called another. "Pastries!"

  "Tastas!" called another. "Tastas!"

  "Here is a tasta right here," said the fellow behind me, putting his hand in my hair, pulling my head back a little, holding me by it.

  "Yes, Master," I laughed. "I am a tasta!"

  He laughed, and released my hair. I remained standing, before him.

  I heard a jangle of slave bells. A girl broke through the guards and ran to kneel before one of the raiders. "I am owned by Fabius!" she said. "Consider his tavern!" Her breasts were haltered in scarlet silk. She wore a long slave strip, some six inches in width, also of scarlet silk, secured by a cord, the strip put over the cord in front, taken between her legs, drawn up snugly behind and passed over the cord in back. The free ends of the strip, lovely, before and behind, were something like two feet in length. Her brand was the common kajira mark, the same as mine. Her wrists were braceleted behind her. On both her ankles there were slave bells, and slave bells, too, on her collar. She was, I took it, a tavern slave, a paga slave.

  "Perhaps!" laughed the raider.

  One of the guards then good-naturedly drew the slave away by the hair and threw her stumbling, with a jangle of slave bells, back into the crowd.

  "No!" called another girl, from the side, kneeling, in brief purple silk, lifting small pinioned wrists. "The Golden Shackles! The Golden Shackles!"

  I could smell her perfume from where I stood.

  I touched my collar. It was a state collar. My work lay in the depths. These others were slaves, it seemed, of a quite different sort from me. Yet we were all slaves, and all owned, in effect, by men.

  "Perhaps," called the raider.

  Doubtless there were many establishments in the city, I thought, that would be only too willing to assist men such as these in the disbursement of their riches.

  The treasure was now muchly assorted, muchly tallied. Already some of it was being carried to the warehouses.

  I saw a tarn, now disburdened of its loot, surrendered by its rider into the care of a tarnkeeper, who would conduct it to its cot.

  Water bags were visible near one of the warehouse doors.

  Captives stirred in their chains.

  Some of the crowd, now that bulk of the treasure had been exhibited, began to leave.

  I wondered if some of the raiders might go this night alone to the temples, to place there a private offering, no Initiates about. They might stand there alone and give thanks to the world, or the fates, or the Priest-Kings, that they had returned. One controls so little, if anything, of one's own fate. The mystery exists. The Initiates, I suspect, understand it as little as anyone else. It is only, I think, that they pretend to do so. That is how they make their living, by the most demeaning and grievous of all lies.

  But others, many others, I suspected, perhaps simpler men, or perhaps more intellectually insouciant or robust fellows, would conduct themselves otherwise, joyously frequenting the taverns, prowling the streets with torches, making loud the night, indulging in riotous thankfulness. They had returned, to laugh, to sing, to drink, to hold yet another slave in their arms. These would be neither the soldiers of Priest-Kings nor the foes of Priest-Kings. They would be rather fellows who had chosen to go their own way. They would respect the mystery, but would not much concern themselves with it. Enough to spill a few drops from the first cup, a libation, honoring Priest-Kings, or perhaps, in the name of Priest-Kings, for what is involved here may have many names, what might hold sway over both men and Priest-Kings, the fates, the mystery. Ask no more then of men such as these than that of which they might be held responsible, ask of them only the sternness of their will, the loyalty of their heart, the skill and readiness of their steel. These things they might pledge and give. As for the rest, let the fates, or the mystery, or whatever it might be, be as it would.

  But still others, I supposed, might return quietly to their compartments, to be greeted there by their kneeling slave, to be feasted by her and then, later, in the light of the lamp of love, to recollect, and cherish her, in the furs.

  Several of the other tarns, disburdened of loot, had also, now, been conducted from the docking area.

  More people had now left.

  The guards had relaxed their lines. Some individuals went now to greet personally the raiders. Then, some of the raiders, together with friends, left the area.

  I saw the belled slave, she in the scarlet silk, leashed by one of the raiders. It was thusly she would le
ad him to the tavern of Fabius. He was taking no chances on her slipping away from him when he arrived there. The girl in purple silk was between two other raiders. Her small wrists were pinioned before her. They had her on a double leash. Sometimes superb slaves are sent forth to solicit for the taverns but then, when one arrives there, they hurry away, to find more customers. These two, however, on their leashes, would not be likely to do so. These two who solicited would, it seemed, also serve and, I suspected, profoundly. The taverners might not like this, the time, indeed, perhaps the entire night, of a skilled soliciting slave being spent in service, but I did not think they would object. Men such as these, once they have a girl on their leash, are seldom crossed with impunity. I saw some of the captives watching the two girls being led away, leashed. I wondered if they realized that such a fate might, in time, be in store for them.

  I saw two officers beginning to examine the lines of captives. One had a grease pencil. They were followed by a scribe with a tablet, who made jottings as they proceeded down the line. Information pertaining to captives and slaves, their dispositions, and such, is sometimes marked on their bodies. The upper surface of the left breast is often used for this. The pertinent information, displayed in this manner, so conveniently and prominently, is easily read. The left breast is used, I assume, because most men are right-handed. A similar consideration may illuminate the general custom of branding on the left thigh. The brand, in such a location, is more ready to the hand of a right-handed master.