Captive of Gor coc-7

by John Norman

  "Unbind the slave," said Ute.

  I lifted my tightly bound wrists to the guard, and he undid the knots. I still knelt.

  "You may now leave us," said Ute to the guard, and he left.

  "Am I truly a work slave?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Ute.

  "Am I under your authority?" I asked.

  "Yes," said Ute.

  "Ute!" I cried. "I did not mean to betray you! I was frightened! Forgive me, Ute! I did not mean to betray you!"

  "Go into the shed," said Ute. "There will be work for you tonight, in the kitchen shed. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to eat."

  "Please, Ute!" I wept.

  "Go into the shed, Slave," said she.

  I rose to my feet and, naked, entered the dark shed. Ute closed the door behind me, plunging me into darkness. I heard the hasps cover the staples, one after the other, and then I heard the heavy padlocks snapped shut.

  The floor of the shed was dirt, but here and there, under my feet, I felt a rounded metal bar. I fell to my hands and knees and, with my fingers in the dirt, felt the floor. Under the dirt, an inch or so, and in some places exposed, was a heavy gridwork of bars.

  Girls locked within this shed would not tunnel their way to freedom. There was no escape.

  Suddenly, locked within, alone in the darkness, I grew panic-stricken. I flung myself against the door, pounding on it in the darkness with my fists. Then, sobbing, I slipped to my knees and scratched at it with my fingernails. "Ute!" I sobbed. "Ute!"

  Then I crawled to one side of the door and sat down, my knees drawn up under my chin, in the darkness. I was lonely and miserable. I felt the steel collar, so smooth and obdurate, fastened on my throat.

  I heard a tiny scurrying, of a tiny brush urt, in the darkness.

  I screamed.

  Then it was silent, and again I sat alone in the darkness, my knees drawn up under my chin. In the darkness I smelled the scent of the Torian perfume.

  * * *

  Ute was not particularly cruel to me, as I had feared she would be. She treated me justly, as she did the other girls. It might even had been as though it were not I who had betrayed her to the slavers of Haakon of Skjern. I did much work, but I did not find that I was doing more than the other girls. Ute would not, however, let me shirk. After I had recovered from my fear that she would exact a vengeance on me for betraying her, I found myself, eventually, becoming irritated, somewhat, that she would treat me with no more favoritism than the other girls. After all, we had known one another for many months, and had been together, I recalled, from well before the time when Targo had first crossed the Laurius northward to the compound above the town of Laura. Surely that should have counted for something. It was not as though I were a stranger to her, as surely were the other girls. Yet, in spite of these considerations, I was not treated preferentially! I had some consolation in the fact that certain other girls, who would try to be particularly pleasing to Ute, who would try to insinuate themselves into her favor, were treated with abrupt coldness. She treated us all alike. She kept herself remote from us. She did not even sleep or eat with us, but in the kitchen shed, where she would be chained at night. We respected her. We feared her. We did what she told us. Behind her lay the power of the men. Yet we did not much like her, for she was our superior. We were pleased that she treated others with justice, not giving them advantages and privileges over ours, but we were angry that the same justice was meted out, in turn, to us. We were not given advantages and privileges over them! Surely I, at least, should have received some consideration, for I had known Ute for many months, and we had been friends. Yet she treated me no differently than the other girls, scarcely recognizing me in my work tunic among the others. When I could, of course, I managed to avoid tasks, or perform them in a hasty, slipshod manner, that I might save myself inconvenience and labor. Ute could not watch all the time. Once, however, she caught me, with a greasy pan, which I had not well scrubbed, but had returned, not clean to the kitchen shed. "Bring the pan," said Ute. I followed her, and we walked through the camp. We stopped by the framework of poles, which I had seen before. There was a horizontal pole, itself set on two pairs of poles, leaning together and lashed at the top. I had thought, when first I had seen it, that it was a pole for hanging meat. The horizontal pole was about nine feet high. Beneath its center, on the ground, there was an iron ring. This ring was set in a heavy stone, which was buried in the ground.

  I stood there, beneath the pole, by Ute's side. I held the greasy pan. "The girl's wrists," said Ute, "are tied together, and then she is tied. Suspended by the wrists, from the high pole. Her ankles are tied together and tied, some six inches from the ground, to the iron ring. That way she does not much swing.

  I looked at her, holding the pan.

  "This is a whipping pole," said Ute. "You may go now, El-in-or."

  I turned and fled back to the kitchen shed, to clean the pan. After that I seldom shirked my work, and I made, generally, much effort to do my work well. It only occurred to me later that Ute had not had me whipped.

  Often during the day, and sometimes for days at a time, most of the tarnsmen of Rask of Treve would be aflight. The camp then would seem very quiet. They were applying themselves to the work of the tarnsmen of Treve, attack, plunder and enslavement.

  A girl would cry, "They return! and we, eager in our work tunics, would run to the center of the camp to greet the returning warriors. Many of the girls would be laughing and waving, leaping up and down, and standing on their tiptoes. I did not betray such emotions, but I, too, found myself eager, almost uncontrollably excited, to witness the return of the warriors. How fine they were, such magnificent males! I hated them, of course, but, too, I, like the others, most eagerly anticipated their return. And most of all was I thrilled to witness the return of their leader, the mighty laughing Rask of Treve, whose very capture loop I had felt on my own body, whose collar I wore, whose I was. How pleased I was to see him bring back yet another girl, bound across his saddle, a new prize. How skeptically, and eagerly, with the other girls, I would silently appraise her, comparing her, always unfavorably, on some ground or another, with myself. Once Rask of Treve, from the saddle, looked directly at me, finding me among the mere work slaves, in their work tunics. I had felt an indescribable emotion, an utter weakness, when our eyes had met. I put my hand before my mouth. How magnificent he seemed, how mighty among those mighty warriors, he, their fierce leader.

  Many of he girls ran to individual warriors, their eyes shining, leaping up and seizing the stirrups, pulling themselves up and putting their cheeks against the soft leather boots. And more than one was hauled to the saddle and well held and kissed before being thrown again to the ground.

  When the tarnsmen would return, with their captives and booty, there would be a feast.

  I would serve at this feast, but when it came time for dancing silks and slave bells to be withdrawn from the ornate, heavy chests, I would be dismissed to the shed, where I would be locked, alone.

  "Why am I never belled and put in dancing silk?" I demanded of Ute. I could scarcely believe that it was I, Elinor Brinton, who so protested. Yet I heard the words. "Why am in never allowed, late, to serve the men in their tents?"

  "No man has called for you," said Ute.

  And so I, my work tunic removed, would be locked in the shed at night. I would lie there and, through the crack beneath the heavy plank door, hear the music, the laughing, protesting screams of the girls, the laughter, the shouts of satisfaction, of victory of the men.

  But no man had called for me. No man wanted me.

  How pleased I was to be spared the ignominious usage to which the other girls, my unfortunate peers, were subjected! How I pitied them. How I rejoiced that I did not share their fate. I screamed with rage, and taking up handfuls of dirt, hurled it against the interior walls of the shed, within which I was locked. At the third or fourth hour of the morning, one by one, the girls, their silks now removed, would be re
turned to the shed. How stimulated they seemed, how untried. How they laughed and talked to one another! How vital they seemed! We had work the next day! Why did they not go to sleep? One would sing or hum to herself. Another would cry out some name, that of a tarnsman, to herself with pleasure. "Ah, Rim," she would cry out, twisting in the darkness, "I am truly your slave!"

  I pounded my fists in the dirt, angry.

  But they would be exhausted in the morning! In the morning they would be miserable enough! In the morning Ute would almost have to use whips to rout such lazy girls out of the shed!

  I was pleased no one wanted me. I wept.

  Sometimes there were visitors to the camp of Rask of Treve, though, one gathers, there were men in the confidence of Treve.

  Generally they were merchants. Some brought food and wines. Others came to buy the plunder of the tarnsmen. Several of my work-mates were sold, and others, captured, brought in on tarnback, took their place, perhaps to be sold as well in their turn.

  When I would, I would manage, in my daily tasks, to pass by the tent of Rask of Treve, that large, low tent, on its eight poles, of scarlet canvas lined with scarlet silk.

  It was convenient to pass by the tent, you understand, for it was in the center of the camp, and thus often lay on the shortest route from place to place to place within the palisade.

  Sometimes I saw the dark-haired girl, in red silk with the two golden bangles on her left ankle, when I passed by the tent. Sometimes I saw other girls. Once or twice I saw a stunningly figured blond girl in brief yellow silk. It seemed Rask of Treve had his choice of beautiful women.

  I hated him!

  One afternoon, after I had been some three weeks in the camp. Rask and his tarnsmen returned from a raid far to the north.

  He had raided the slave compound of his old enemy, Haakon of Skjern. Among the new slaves brought to the camp were Inge and the Lady Rena of Lydius! Lana had not been captured. Inge and Rena were the only ones I knew among the new girls.

  The morning following their capture, as I had been, they, and the others, were collared. They, like I, had spent their first night in the tent of the women. Following their collaring, however, as I had been, they were sent to the shed. When Rask had collared Inge he had shaken her blond head with his large hand. He seemed fond of her. And she had dared to put her cheek against his hand. How shameless she had become! Once of the scribes, she was now only a wanton, shameless slave girl! I wanted to tear her hair and eyes out! How pleased I was, and how startled she was, and the others, when Rask sent them to the shed, where they would be issued work tunics and find themselves work slaves in the camp! How Inge and Rena rejoiced when they found themselves forced to their knees before Ute! But Ute did not even let them rise.

  They looked at her with horror.

  "I am Ute," Ute told them. "I am first girl among the work slaves. You will obey me. You will be treated precisely as the other girls, neither better nor worse. If you do not obey me, exactly and promptly, in all things, you will be beaten." They looked at her, scarcely comprehending.

  "Do you understand?" asked Ute.

  "Yes," said Inge.

  "Yes," said Rena.

  "The slave, El-in-or," said Ute, "stand forward."

  I had been hiding in the background. Ordered by Ute, I came forward. I saw Inge and Rena exchange glances of pleasure. I was frightened. "This is one of my girls," said Ute, "as you are. You will not be cruel to her." "Ute!" protested Inge.

  "Or I will have you beaten," said Ute.

  Inge looked at her, angrily.

  "Do you understand?" said Ute.

  "Yes," said Inge.

  "Yes," said the Lady Rena of Lydius.

  "El-in-or," said Ute, "take these new slaves and get them work tunics, and then return them to me, and I shall assign them their duties for the day." Inge and Rena, and the other new girls, followed me, and I took them to the chest at the side of the shed, where I could find them their simple, brief garments of brown rep-cloth, which raiment would constitute their sole work garment in the camp of Rask of Treve.

  From the chest I took forth several of the garments, small, clean and neatly folded. I had washed several myself, and, sprinkling them with water, and sweating, had pressed them on a smooth board, using the small, heavy, rounded Gorean irons, heated over fire. I had folded them, too, and placed them in the chest. I threw the garments to the girls, the new slaves. They were naked, save for their collars.

  "But I am a trained pleasure slave," protested Inge. She held the small, folded garment in her two hands.

  "Put it on," I told her.

  "I was of high caste!" cried the Lady Rena of Lydius.

  "Put it on," I told her.

  Then angrily Inge and Rena stood before me, clad in the brief, simple garments of female work slaves.

  "You make a pretty work slave," I said to Inge.

  She clenched her fists.

  "You, too," said I to the Lady Rena of Lydius.

  She glared at me in helpless fury, her fists, like Inge's, clenched. I looked at the others. "Put them on!" I cried.

  The other girls, too, donned their tunics, and then I led them all, the new slaves, clad for work, back to Ute, who would instruct them in their duties for the day.

  * * *

  Four days after Inge and Rena, and other new girls, had been brought to the secret war camp of Rask of Treve, the tarnsman, and his fierce men, again returned from the work of warriors.

  Again there was excitement in the camp.

  I leaped to my feet.

  "Finish your work," said Ute.

  "Ute!" I cried.

  "Finish your work," she said.

  Behind the kitchen shed, I was ironing. To one side there was a large pile of laundered work tunics, which I had washed in the early morning. The smooth board was set before me, mounted on two wooden blocks. A bowl of water was nearby, and a fire, over which, on an iron plate fixed on stones, there were, heating, five, small, flat-bottomed, rounded, wooden-handled Gorean irons. I had been kneeling before the board, ironing the tunics, which I would then fold and place to one side. Behind the kitchen shed, I had not been able to see the alighting of the tarns. I could hear, however, the delighted cries of the girls and the loud, warm, answering shouts of the men.

  I heard one of the girls cry out, "How beautiful she is!"

  I supposed a new female had been brought to the camp.

  Angrily I pressed one of the hot irons down on a work tunic, smoothing it. I must remain behind the kitchen shed, working, while they were permitted to greet the men! I wondered if Inge would be there, perhaps smiling and waving to Rask of Treve.

  How furious I was!

  But I reminded myself that I hated him!

  In time the excitement, the cries and shouts, diminished, and I knew the men had dismounted, and any captive, perhaps bound, would have been sent to the tent of the women. The girls, here and there, returned to their labors.

  I continued to iron.

  About a quarter of an Ahn later, kneeling behind the board, ironing, I became aware of someone standing before me. I saw a pair of slim, tanned ankles. I lifted my eyes and saw slender, strong, tanned legs. And then, to my horror, the brief, tawny garment of a panther girl. And in the belt of the garment there was thrust a sleen knife. She wore barbaric ornaments of gold. I lifted my eyes to this tall, strong, beautifully figured female.

  I put down my head, crying out in misery.

  "She seems to know you," said Rask of Treve.

  I shook my head negatively.

  "Lift your head, Slave," said Verna.

  I did so.

  "Who is she?" asked Verna.

  Rask shrugged. "One of my slaves," he said.

  Verna smiled down at me. "You know me, do you not, Girl?" she asked. I shook my head.

  Verna wore no collar. In her belt she carried a sleen knife. Rask of Treve, my master, stood near her. She was free, obviously free. She was not even a captive, let alone a slave. By the at
titude of my master, I could see that she was, somehow, for no reason I could understand, a guest in this camp. "We met," said Verna, "first outside the compound of Targo the Slaver, north of Laura. Then, in the streets of Ko-ro-ba, you incited the slave girls to attack me. Later, south of Ko-ro-ba, when I was caged, among the prizes in the hunting retinue of Marlenus of Ar, you, with another girl, whose name was Lana, much abused me."

  I put my head down.

  "Lift your head, Girl," said she.

  Again I did so.

  "You know me, do you not, Girl?" asked Verna again.

  I shook my head, no, no!

  "Your Slave is a liar," said Verna.

  "Shall I have her beaten for you?" asked Rask of Treve.

  "No," said Verna. She looked down at me. "She is only a slave," she said. I put down my head.

  "You are not to lie again in this camp," said Rask of Treve.

  "No, Master, I whispered.

  "My patience grows short with you, El-in-or," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I whispered.

  "I know little of such work," said Verna, "but are you not in danger of scorching the garment which you are ironing?"

  I hastily drew away the iron, placing it on the fire-heated plate.

  Fortunately the garment was not marked, else Ute, discovering it, might have punished me.

  "Permit me, Verna," said Rask of Treve, "to show you the rest of the camp." Verna looked down upon me. "Continue with your work, Slave," she said. "Yes, Mistress," I said.

  Then, together, Verna and Rask of Treve left me. Weeping, I continued to iron. That night I sneaked away, following my feeding, and before the time to be sent to the kitchen shed, to the tent of women.

  "Ena!" I whispered, through the canvas of the tent.

  Ena came from the tent and I, only a work girl, knelt before her, putting my forehead to the ground. "May a slave speak?" I begged.

  Ena knelt down before me and lifted me, and held my arms. "Of course, El-in-or," she said. "What is it?"

  I looked at her, gratefully.

  "There is a new woman, a free woman in the camp," I said.

  "That is Verna," said Ena, "a panther girl from the northern forests." "How is it that she is here? I begged.