“It was a good voyage,” said the keeper, reaching out with a staff and hook to draw Publia, by the chain from which her harness was suspended, close to the rail.
“Yes,” I said.
When Publia had been drawn closer to the rail two other fellows reached out and pulled her to the bow deck where they knelt her, in the shackles, in the harness, still attached to the chain. In a moment he, and the others, similarly, had retrieved Claudia and she, too, knelt on the bow deck.
“I gather,” said the keeper, “that you have had some relationship, or something to do, with these two slaves.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Slaves,” said the keeper.
“Yes, Master,” said Publia.
“Yes, Master,” said Claudia.
“You may bid him farewell,” said the keeper, “in a manner suitable for slaves.”
“I wish you well, Master,” said Publia, humbly, kneeling before me in her shackles and harness, putting down her head, kissing my feet.
“I wish you well, slave,” I said.
Claudia then, too, as had Publia, was kneeling before me. She, too, put down her head. “I, too, wish you well, Master,” she said. She then softly, delicately, kissed my feet.
“I wish you well, slave,” I said.
The young warrior, Marcus, was not looking toward the piers, or the town, ascending from the harbor. His attentions seemed to be outward, and back, toward the entrance of the harbor.
I looked back to the pier. Here and there, lingering, some four or five of them, were slave girls.
The keeper was now crouching by Publia. He freed her wrist shackles from the chain and then her wrists from the shackles. He then pulled her small wrists behind her back and locked them there, in slave bracelets. He then, similarly, removed her ankle shackles from the chain and then freed her ankles from the shackles themselves. He then removed her harness. He similarly handled Claudia.
“You do not seem eager to see Port Cos,” I said to the young warrior.
“Where,” asked he, “do you think the northern forces of Ar are?”
“South of the river,” I said, “back, to the east, somewhere.”
“The expeditionary force of Cos will never be able to slip between them and the river,” he said.
“Perhaps not,” I said.
“It would be impossible,” he said.
“Perhaps,” I said.
I turned about. A fellow had brought two slave hoods and a neck chain, it appeared to be about five feet in length, terminating at each end with a collar. I watched while Publia was turned about, so that her back was to Claudia. She was then put, kneeling, before the kneeling Claudia. Both girls were then in line, back-braceleted.
In a slaver’s necklace, particularly if it be a long one, attention is often given to the placement of the “jewels.” Some masters merely arrange the girls in a simple order of height, beginning with the tallest girl, which, to be sure, has a nice effect. On the other hand, some masters put the best girls first and the less beautiful girls last. Others put their best merchandise later on the chain, saving it for last, so to speak. Naturally these arrangement are clear to the girls, and they often compete for what are regarded as the favored positions on the chain, vying with one another to improve their position, in kissing and caressing masters, and such, and sometimes bitterly disputing such locations with one another, sometimes to the extent of rolling in the dirt, pulling hair, scratching, biting, and such, which amuses the masters, assuming no eyes are lost, no disfigurements occur, and so on. Most masters, particularly if girls are to be sold from the chain, will mix the girls in such a way that different types alternate aesthetically. The tastes of men differ in women, of course, as they do in other things, food, drink, art, recreation, kaiila, tharlarion, and so on. The best selling point is usually regarded as the first position on the chain, for she is the first girl inspected, and is likely to be remembered, even after the others are examined. Sometimes when one wishes to rid the chain of a girl, perhaps she has been recalcitrant or troublesome, or is insufficiently passionate, she is put in the first position. There is a saying to the effect then, as one might anticipate, that one should not buy the first girl on the chain. Where the saying is rampant one supposes that the troublesome or less passionate girl is then put second on the chain. Some think the saying is motivated simply by the fact that the first girl is often regarded as being overpriced. I myself am of the view that one should disregard such matters and should buy as one pleases. It is up to the master then, of course, to see to it that any initial flaws in the female of his choice, should any manifest themselves, are quickly and permanently removed. After all, he has paid for her. Interestingly, some masters actually inquire of the seller who the most troublesome or least passionate girl on the chain is, because they much enjoy taking such a wench in hand and turning her in short order into an abject, trembling chattel desperately zealous to be found pleasing in any and every way. Too, mastered, such women lose their inertness, or frigidity, and become needful, begging slaves. It is only necessary, so to speak, to ignite the slave fires in their belly, which is not difficult to do. Sometimes slavers are astonished when, presumably by accident, they encounter so transformed a slave, and will bid high to buy her back, but the master is seldom willing to sell her. By then she is probably his love slave. When girls are sold from a chain each is expected, kneeling before prospective clients, to utter the phrase, “Buy me, Master.” If it is a rent chain, of the sort commonly brought to fairs or carnivals, the phrase is usually, “Rent me, Master.” As there were only two girls on the present necklace, Publia and Claudia, it is was hard to say what prompted the order in which they were placed. Was Publia, who was first, thought most beautiful, and thus led the chain, or was it perhaps that Claudia’s crime, treachery, the betrayal of a Home Stone, and such, was thought most heinous, and that this explained her position, perhaps that of greatest degradation and shame?
“I am curious,” I said, addressing myself to the girls’ keeper, the fellow from Port Cos. “Is there any reason why the girls are in the particular order they are, the one first there, the other second?”
“Certainly,” said he.
“May I inquire?” I said.
“Certainly,” he said. “I flipped a coin.”
“Oh,” I said.
“A copper tarsk,” said he. “I assigned that one,” here he indicated Publia, “tarsk, and it came up tarsk, so she is first.”
“I see,” I said.
So much I thought for my speculations.
Publia’s eyes were suddenly bright with tears.
“Do not be concerned,” said the keeper to Publia. “You are a pretty little tarsk, you know.”
It was quite possibly no accident that a copper tarsk had been used. It is not merely that it would be, in virtue of its commonness, the most likely coin for such a purpose, but, rather, that custom prescribed its use in such contexts. Goreans tend to be very sensitive to matters of ritual, tradition, custom, symbolism, and such. Accordingly, in allotting decisions amongst slaves to chance a low-denomination coin is preferred, this symbolic of the slave’s worthlessness, even if she is a high slave who might actually sell for golden tarn disks.
This symbolism, that of the low-denomination coin, would not be lost on the two girls, as both were Gorean. An Earth-girl brought to Gor, on the other hand, might be in her collar a year or more and have had perhaps two or three masters before she comes to understand the potent symbolism of this, that such a humble coin is used. But then, later, as her Gorean sisters have already, from their culture, she will come to understand the significances of such things. But by then she is already a slave, and has come to expect such things, given her status. Too, she will not only understand such things, and expect them, but, as her Gorean sister now, will welcome them, recognizing their appropriateness.
It is another way in which her bondage, in which she finds her fulfillment, her meaning, and identity, is made clear
to her.
Let us suppose that two friends are supping in a paga tavern and are being served by a lithe, attractive slave, one whose bells and beauty heats them, and whose use, if she is not a dancer, commonly comes with the price of the drink. Usually there is an extra charge for dancers. Who will take her first to an alcove? It is not unusual that such a matter will be decided by the tossing of a coin. Often she is blindfolded before the toss, and thus will not know who won, and who uses her first. The blindfold is only removed later by a proprietor’s man. She will thus not know who put her to his pleasure first, and who second. Perhaps one was such an astounding perfection to her that she would give anything to again know his touch, having sensed her ravished self in his arms to be the submitted conquest she has always longed to be, sensing in his arms that she was at last helpless in the grip of her rightful master, he whom she would beg to buy her, he whose collar she would beg to wear, he for whom she would gladly die. But she does not know which was he, and they are gone. Would they come again? She had been allotted on a coin’s toss. Would they come again? She does not know. She is slave. Another use of coins is to decide who amongst captives will belong to which captor. Needless to say, recourse to so convenient a random-selection device as a spinning coin has often prevented bloodshed. Honor, you see, prescribes that the loser accept with good grace the edict of chance. Surely he had committed himself to that, given his acceptance of, and participation in, the wager. Goreans, incidentally, in general, tend to be fond of gambling, often taking it, it seems, as a symbol of life, its hazards and its fortunes. Perhaps needless to say, slaves often stand as the stakes in such gambling. Many a girl has changed hands as the ostraca have decreed. A coin smaller than the copper tarsk is the tarsk bit, but most do not lend themselves to gambling as they are usually triangular, being fashioned by cutting a copper tarsk into either four or eight pieces. Some cities have tiny, round copper “tarsk bits,” but they are usually regarded as too small to be suitable in the sports of chance.
“And you, too,” he said to Claudia, “you, too, are a pretty little tarsk.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“What do you say?” he asked.
“Thank you, Master,” said Claudia.
“And you?” he inquired of Publia.
“Thank you, Master,” she said.
Both girls choked back sobs.
Former free women, new to slavery, neither was accustomed to being so spoken of. One supposes, as well, if it had not occurred to them hitherto, that in addition to the low denomination of the coin, so meaningful in itself, the image of the tarsk on the coin, as least as applied in such matters, was doubtless intended to be exquisitely informative to them, or to any slave. It was not merely a domestic animal, but it was perhaps the least prepossessing and least valuable of such beasts, commonly being thought of as ugly, stupid, and dirty. To be likened to such a beast, or to be gambled for with such a device, low denomination or not, one bearing its image, is not to be construed as a compliment. In defense of the tarsk, however, it is a major Gorean food animal, and a disease amongst tarsks, or a driving off of such herds, has ruined many Gorean economies. Too, it might be noted that the meat, in most cuts, is tender and savory, and it can be prepared in dozens of ways. Tarsk is found upon the golden plates of Ubars, amongst the triumphs of their chefs, as well as on the simple wooden trenchers of peasants. Too, dried tarsk strips in a warrior’s kit have sustained armies for days. In my view too harsh is the lowly reputation of the humble tarsk. It well deserves its coin, whether of copper or silver. But even if the image on the coin had been that of the swift, silken kaiila or the fierce, wide-winged tarn well might the slaves have understood that decisions pertaining to them had not even been left to the will of masters but rather to the winds of chance.
Too, they had been forced to thank a free man for having been referred to as pretty little tarsks.
They were learning their slavery.
They knelt as they had been placed.
Tears fell down their cheeks, and ran upon their lovely breasts. How beautiful are women, their shoulders, their breasts, their waists and the sweet flare of their hips!
The beauties of their features, of their head and hair, of their arms, and legs, and slim ankles, and small feet!
They are so desirable, so beautiful!
It is little wonder that men will own them, that they will buy and sell them, and exchange them, and so on.
The opposite of the “head,” so to speak, which is usually “tarsk” or “tarn,” depending on the coin, is not tails, so to speak, but “print.” More technically, I suppose one might speak of obverse and reverse. The “head” is usually the image of an animal, but not always. Some coins of Port Cos, for example, have the pharos as the “head,” and some of Ar the image of her central cylinder, and so on. I have never seen a Gorean coin with the image of a human being on it. I doubt that this is an accident. I would suppose that it is due to a fear of displeasing Priest-Kings. As speculative images of the Priest-Kings themselves, in effect, the rulers and gods of Gor, are forbidden, or at least generally discouraged, I suppose it is not surprising that humans are wary of boldly bedecking coins with their own images. Such might seem to constitute hubris, or, in Gorean, hybris, which word, I understand, is the same in Greek. Gorean, as might be supposed, given the voyages of acquisition, and such, contains numerous words from one Earth language or another, from many times and places, mostly ancient, some modern. It has its own plenteous coinages, as well, of course, as would be expected in any complex, ever-changing, historical language. The symbol which represents Priest-Kings, found in temples, and so on, is the circle, usually golden, that which has no beginning or end.
Most Goreans, save for occasional sacrifices, observations, donations to temples, and such, called for by the caste of Initiates, who claim to mediate between men and Priest-Kings, live their lives without much concern for Priest-Kings, and seem to hope that the Priest-Kings will return the favor, which they commonly do, save when various of their technology or weapons laws might be infringed, in which instances, if the departures are discovered, they are likely to react with an exactitude both fierce and devastating, the usual evidence of their displeasure being a blast of blue flame capable of melting marble. Needless to say, the technology and weapons laws are, on the whole, scrupulously kept. Concern with the Priest-Kings is usually most prevalent, when it is found, amongst the lower castes. All Goreans, on the other hand, are expected to make at least one pilgrimage during their lifetime to the Sardar Mountains, taken to be the home of Priest-Kings. This pilgrimage is recommended to, and expected of, its young people by most communities, from the high cities to the smallest villages. Presumably this is to avoid incurring the disfavor of Priest-Kings. Certainly Initiates commonly warn gravely of this possibility. And certainly, all would agree, it would seem judicious to avert such a calamity if at all possible. Much of the largesse gathered in by the caste of Initiates, one might observe, is accrued from these pilgrimages. Human beings tend to be superstitious and so I suppose it is only to be expected that an occupation would arise to capitalize upon this species characteristic. The major Gorean fairs occur seasonally, incidentally, in the vicinity of the Sardar Mountains, indeed, within sight of their black, snow-capped peaks.
Claudia’s neck was the first locked in the collar. Publia appeared apprehensive, but did not dare turn about. The second collar was locked on her neck. The two slaves were now linked together. It is common, incidentally, to coffle girls from behind, and usually while kneeling, to minimize bolting, and, I suppose, to increase trepidation, as the collars, with the snappings, and the tiny rustle of chain links, come closer and closer, until the girl, probably then to her relief, the suspense ended, has one locked on her neck, and the fellow then proceeds to the next girl, before her. The chain was, indeed, some five feet in length. Claudia’s tear-filled eyes, frightened, met mine. Then she was hooded, and the hood straps, beneath her chin, drawn snug, and b
uckled shut, behind the back of her neck. In a moment Publia, too, similarly, sobbing, had been hooded. Publia was then drawn to her feet by an arm and conducted back, through the passage between the starboard rail and the stem castle, back amidships, to the gangplank, Claudia, responding to the cues of the chain, helpless in the hood, with tiny steps, hurrying behind.
I looked toward the pharos, on the promontory. Its light at night could be seen, it was said, pasangs east and west on the river.
“What are you thinking of?” I asked the young warrior, Marcus.
“Of vengeance,” he said, bitterly, “and loyalty.”
“An odd juxtaposition of thoughts,” I commented.
I then turned about and watched Publia and Claudia, hooded, naked, on their common chain, their wrists braceleted behind them, being herded along the pier, among boxes and bales. Beyond the pier, abutting on harborside wharfage, there were numerous buildings, mostly shops, such as those of sailmakers, oarmakers and sawyers, and warehouses, and, here and there, between these buildings, narrow streets, stretching up toward the city. I expected that they would be herded up one of these streets to the house of some slaver or other. They would have very little idea, at this time, of what Port Cos was like. Their hoods would be removed, presumably, only in the slaver’s house. They would be very helpless, and muchly disoriented. Later, perhaps never having been given access to a window, or never having been outside unhooded, they would find themselves auctioned. From that time on, what was permitted to them would be determined by their master.
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