“And if they are not properly exhibited, or exhibited to the satisfaction of masters,” she said, “then the women receive ‘encouragement’?”
“Yes,” he said.
“And may I inquire the nature of this ‘encouragement’?” she asked.
“The women at the prow,” he said, “are suspended within reach of a slave whip.”
“I see,” she said. The chain trembled, moving in the staple welded to the collar.
Usually, as far as I knew, the placing of women at the prow was not attended by such considerations. For example, when I had put women at my own prow, from time to time, I had usually let them behave or appear in any fashion they pleased. It was enough for me, and, I suppose, for them, that they were at the prow, displayed and helpless. Still, it was an intriguing idea, instructing them in the behavior they were to exhibit at the prow. In such a manner one might, rather as if decorating the ship in a certain way, say, with bunting and garlands, exercise more control over the impression one created in entering the harbor. Too, of course, one might by such a device ready the crowds for bidding on a certain female, raise up her price, and so on. Certainly it was no secret that slavers, particularly in the more expensive houses, occasionally planned the sale of women in great detail, carefully regulating the order, arrangement, style, pacing and presentation of the goods, sometimes, in effect, even choreographing or staging the sale. But even without special attentions the behavior of women at prows varied considerably, from such things as free women hysterically writhing and screaming in their bonds to saucy slave girls exchanging quips with the crowd. Sometimes, indeed, a girl would single out a desirable male in the crowd and signal to him in no uncertain manner that she begs to wear his collar, and that she wants only the opportunity to become for him a dream of love and pleasure.
“And may Claudia inquire as to what behaviors may be required of herself and Publia?” she asked.
“I do not know what the captain will decide,” he said. “I suppose that perhaps, as you are slaves, but new slaves, it might be required that you adopt an attitude of apprehensive ambiguity, of informed trepidation, of fearful uncertainty, as you have some concept of what it is to be a slave, and are being carried into a new bondage.”
“Yes, Master,” she said.
“But I do not know,” he said.
“Yes, Master,” she said.
I supposed that even the most seasoned of slave girls must have some apprehension every time she finds herself in a new bondage. After all, what does she know of her new master? Very little, except that she is completely his, and that he has total power over her.
“On your stomach, head down, over the ropes,” said the fellow to Claudia. She turned about, instantly, an obedient slave. He then braceleted her small hands behind her back. He then thrust the heavy key he carried into the lock at the back of her hinged collar, and dropped it to the side, near the ring, with the coil of chain, on the deck. He then looked at her, braceleted and helpless. I left them alone and went to the rail, on the starboard side, amidships. In a few Ihn he brought her to the hatch, holding her by the arm. She looked at me, and then lowered her eyes. He knelt her there and unfastened the lock on the hatch. He opened the hatch, unbraceleted her, and indicated that she should descend into the hold. She did so, carefully, holding to the sides of the ladderlike stairs. She looked at me once more. Then she descended and he swung the heavy wooden grating back in place and padlocked it shut. After he had left I went and looked down through the grating, into the hold. By means of the moonlight I could see a reticulated pattern of light and shadows there, which fell across two girls, one, Publia, sleeping, the other, Claudia, still standing, near the bottom of the ladderlike stairs, who looked up at me. Seeing my eyes on her, those of a free man, she knelt. I then turned away, and went toward the prow. There, standing on the tiny bow deck, I looked downriver. Tomorrow, in the afternoon, we were due to arrive at Port Cos.
24
Port Cos
“There,” said Calliodorus, standing on the bow deck, “is the pharos of Port Cos.”
Aemilianus, standing now, but supported by Surilius, was there with us. Others, too, were about, such as the young warrior, Marcus, who had come days before to Port Cos, to obtain succor for the besieged of Ar’s Station, and the young crossbowman and his friend, so young, and yet men by battle.
We looked at the tall, cylindrical structure which lay on a promontory, at the southwesternmost point of the harbor. It was perhaps one hundred and fifty feet high. It tapered upward, and was perhaps some twenty feet in diameter at the top. It was yellow and red, in horizontal sections, the colors of the Builders and Warriors, the Builders the caste that had supervised its construction and the Warriors the caste that maintained its facilities. It was as much a keep as a landmark. At night, in virtue of fires and mirrors, it served as a beacon. This morning a dispatch ship had been ushered through the advance ships, bringing news of some sort to Calliodorus. He had shared this with Aemilianus, it seemed. On the other hand, whatever might have been the contents of the sealed leather cylinder delivered into his hands with signs and countersigns I did not know. The dispatch ship had then hurried back, ahead of the flotilla, to Port Cos.
Two narrow beams, with attachment points for tackle, lay at the sides of the bow deck. There were mounts in which they could be inserted.
“I had never thought to come in this way to Port Cos,” said Aemilianus.
“Nor had I ever thought to go to Ar’s Station in the capacity I did,” said Calliodorus.
Some men began to attach tackle, chains and harness, to the two beams.
I glanced at the face of the young man, Marcus, who had brought the ships of Port Cos, and, apparently, those of certain other towns, as well, to the aid of Ar’s Station. His face seemed resolute, and grim. In his way, he was a hero, and yet, for all he had done, he, and those with him, of Ar’s Station, were coming to this town, once their greatest rival on the Vosk, as refugees, with little more than the clothing on their backs. There was little left now of Ar’s Station, I speculated. There were some men, and some women and children, and a flag, that and little else. To be sure, the Home Stone, somewhere, supposedly, survived. At least I hoped it did. That, to Goreans, would be extremely important. It had apparently been sent southward toward Ar. I suspected that if its departure from the city had been much delayed, perhaps even for a few days, it would not have been sent toward Ar. I did not think that those of Ar’s Station now bore those of Ar much love.
“Out oars!” called the oar master, from his place before the helmsmen, aft.
I heard the great, counterweighted levers thrust through the thole ports. The oarsmen of Port Cos were in their best today, their tunics bright, their leather polished, their brimless, jaunty caps atilt on their heads. They were in high spirits. They were nearing home. They would cut quite a figure with the lasses of Port Cos, I was sure. Doubtless there would be crowds on the docks to welcome them. Among these, too, I was sure there would be many girls in brief tunics and collars, waving and joyous, and not just girls released for the occasion from the taverns and brothels either, but from the shops, and the laundries and kitchens, and homes, from all over the city. Such makes a sailor’s return even more joyous. Indeed, some of the girls would undoubtedly belong to one or another of the oarsmen. They would thus be eagerly, joyously welcoming, almost beside themselves, not only returning heroes but their masters. The slave girl within the city, incidentally, commonly receives a great deal of freedom. She normally can do much what she wants, and go much where she wishes. Her mobility and freedom in such respects is often much greater than that accorded to free women. This freedom and mobility does not matter greatly, of course, for she is branded and collared. To be sure, she is seldom allowed outside the walls of a city unless she is in the company of a free person. Similarly, if an appropriate free person is available, she must request permission to leave the house. At this time, she will probably also have the Ahn of her re
turn specified for her. Similarly, if an appropriate free person is available, she must report in to that person, when she returns. It is better for her, incidentally, to report in before or at the time that has been specified for her. It is sometimes amusing to see these girls hurrying to get home in time. Many houses are strict about such matters. Being late can be a matter for discipline.
The Gorean slave girl, well aware of the severity and inescapability of discipline, almost analogous to the laws of nature, seldom has it imposed upon her. She takes great pains to avoid it. She is concerned to be obedient, punctual, and pleasing.
“That is the pharos,” a mother told her child, holding him up to look.
The refugees, save for some of the men, were glad enough, I think, to see the pharos, to know that the harbor of Port Cos was near. This harbor meant haven and refuge for them. The nightmare of the siege was over.
There was pleasure in the eyes of the free women. I had seen that even the briefly tunicked slave girls on deck, kneeling together amidships, properties of various masters on board, were eager, happy and excited. Among them, with no special sign of her status, as being the preferred slave of Aemilianus himself, was Shirley, only one slave amongst others.
The two beams, by fellows of Port Cos, were put in the mounts, the chains and harness pulled back inside, within the rail. They jutted out, on either side of the sloping, concave bow.
I saw those small ships which had been in our advance now slowing their progress. In a bit, they would be abeam, and later astern. Our ship, that of Calliodorus, the Tais, it seemed, would be the first ship into the harbor.
I met the eyes of the young crossbowman and his friend. We smiled at one another, then looked apart. His name was Fabius. The name of his friend was Quintus. They were eager, it seemed, to see Port Cos. How marvelous, how remarkable, how astonishing is the resilience of youth! To look at them, and see their anticipation and eagerness, one would not have thought that they had endured trials that would have harrowed many a brave fellow, that they had stood on the wall, that they had served on the landing and near the piers. I had given each of them a handful of coins that they might buy themselves a girl in Port Cos, coins from those taken from the looter, met in the corridor of the citadel, leading out to the landing. I had also given them the advice to see that she served well. I did not doubt but what they would see to it. I supposed that two pretty little kajirae, expecting to have an easy time of it, by means of their slave girl’s wiles, in virtue of the youth of their masters, were in for quite a surprise. They would find themselves held in strength, kept in discipline, and given no choice but to yield and serve as a slave girl must, with total perfection.
The advance ships were now astern.
“Stroke!” called the oar master.
The oars entered the water in unison, drew and rose, shining, dripping, from the river.
I looked again at the tall, cylindrical pharos. At night, its beacon aflame, the light multiplied and reflected in the mirrors, it could presumably be seen for pasangs up and down the river.
We were now, I conjectured, some three or four pasangs from the harbor.
“Stroke!” called the oar master.
Calliodorus was near me. So, too, was Aemilianus, supported by Surilius.
The ship was bedecked with flags and streamers. Conspicuous at the port stem line snapped a flag of Ar’s Station. On the starboard stem line flew that of Port Cos. Aemilianus could not have asked for more honor. He was being conducted into Port Cos not as a piteous refugee but as a welcome and respected ally.
I went back over various things in my mind, the Crooked Tarn, the camp of the Cosians, the trenches, the approach to the wall, my captivity, my escape, the fighting at Ar’s Station, the escape from the piers. How complex and desperate had become the world. I felt so small, like a particle adrift on a vast sea, beneath a vast sky, a particle taken here and there, at the mercy of the tides, the currents, the winds, not understanding. But there were compasses and landmarks, as palpable to me as the stars by which I might navigate on Thassa, as solid and undoubted as the great brick structure of the pharos of Port Cos itself. There were the codes, and honor, and steel.
Two slaves were brought forward, to stand on the bow deck. I looked at one, whose name was Claudia. Then she lowered her eyes, timidly. I watched metal bonds placed on their wrists and ankles, these bonds attached to the chains running to the jutting beams. I watched their bodies fitted into the chain-and-leather harnesses, these harnesses also attached to the chains. The harnesses were then buckled shut and secured with small padlocks put through rings. They were then put prone on the bow deck, one on each side, their manacled wrists extended before them, over their head. The head of Claudia was turned to the left, her head between her arms; the head of Publia was turned to the right, her head between her arms.
I heard a drummer testing his instrument. I heard, too, some pipes.
Treason, of horrid and grand dimension, was abroad on Gor. I was confident, too, from long ago, it seemed now, from captured papers, taken in Brundisium, that I knew at least one of the participants in these treacheries, one who was perhaps an arch conspirator, one who was perhaps even the prime architect of these devious and insidious designs. And I, like a fool, who had had her once in my grasp, in Port Kar, had had her freed, even when she had mocked and scorned me, thinking me crippled, and had had her returned in honor and safety to Ar! I considered her. How insolent she had been. How high she had flown. I wondered what should be her fate.
We were now nearing the harbor.
I considered the face of the young warrior, Marcus, near me. How set it seemed, how grim.
“My place, now,” said Calliodorus, “is on the stern castle.” With a bow he withdrew.
A curule chair was brought for Aemilianus and set on the bow deck. Some of his high officers were gathered about him.
Various thoughts passed through my mind. I recalled lovely Phoebe, of Telnus, so slim, with her very dark hair, her very white skin. How lonely and unhappy she had been as a free woman! How right she looked, clad in the garments of a slave! Yet I had not enslaved her, but had kept her, to her frustration, merely as a full servant. On the morning I had gone to the trenches I had first taken her, clad only in a slave strip, to the wagon of my friend, Ephialtes, the sutler, met at the Crooked Tarn. There I had had her put on the coffle of women he was holding for me, those whom I had redeemed at the Crooked Tarn. I recalled the well-curved, auburn-haired Temione, of Cos, who had worked inside, in the paga room. Then there were the women I had met outside, chained beneath the eaves of the left wing, Amina, the Vennan, Elene, from Tyros, and Klio, Rimice and Liomache, these latter three, like Temione, from Cos. The somewhat venal master of the Crooked Tarn had had the heads of all these shaved, to sell their hair for catapult cordage. I also recalled the slave, Liadne, whom I had used beneath her master’s wagon, in the storm. It had amused me to have her put, once purchased for me by Ephialtes, over the free women on the chain, as first girl. I had given Ephialtes my permission, of course, to do much with the women as he wished, for example, renting them, trading them, selling them, reducing them to bondage, and so on, as the conditions of the market might seem to make most judicious. I did not know, of course, if I would ever see him again. I had myself sold Elene and Klio in the trenches, in making my way toward the foot of the wall, at Ar’s Station. I had also, I recalled, met a fellow in the trenches who had been defrauded by a Liomache. I did not know if it were the same Liomache as the one on my chain, of course. I rather hoped for her sake that it was not. After the fall of Ar’s Station the Cosian troops, and their allies, mercenary and otherwise, would have much more freedom. Too, there might not be so many women available for the men, given the large numbers shipped west toward Brundisium, and other destinations, some destined doubtless even for the markets of Cos and Tyros themselves. Poor Liomache, held there on her chain, helpless, would be exposed to the scrutiny of anyone who passed by, and under the conditions,
it was almost certain that several would pass by. If the fellow from the trench caught sight of her I pitied her. Her captivity, that of a free person would be almost certain to be promptly replaced with bondage, and a master into whose clutches she might have most feared to fall. I recalled, too, the bearded fellow from the Crooked Tarn who had so humiliated and scorned poor Temione, refusing even to be served by her. He did seem to be a rude chap. Too, I did not think he would have been too pleased with me, either, with how I had tricked him, and made away with his dispatches and his tarn. I had last seen him chained naked to a ring in the courtyard of the Crooked Tarn, unable, thanks to me, it seems, to pay his somewhat extravagant bills. I wondered if he had managed to secure redemption from some passing Cosian, perhaps a comrade in arms who might have recognized him. This seemed to me not unlikely. The Crooked Tarn was a likely stopping place for couriers, and such. It did not seem to me likely that I would meet that fellow again. That seemed to me just as well.
I saw some small boats, wreathed with garlands, coming out to meet the flotilla. They swarmed about. In them, men, and slave girls, clinging to the masts, kneeling in the stern sheets, waved. They would escort us into the harbor.
“Gentlemen,” said Aemilianus, from his curule chair, “as we are nearing Port Cos, it behooves me to speak plainly to you. Not all that I say will be welcome to your ears. Yet much of it you will have suspected.”
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