The Captain th-2

by John Norman

  “Is your name ‘Flora’?” asked Julian, kindly.

  “In the house they call me that, Master,” said the slave.

  “Is it your name?” asked Julian.

  “My name,” she said, “or even if I am permitted a name, is up to my master.”

  She looked at Otto.

  But he turned away from her.

  “Look upon her, my friend,” urged Julian.

  “Thank you, my friend,” said Otto, “for having seen to it that she has received some training. That will doubtless improve her price.”

  “Have you not been permitted in this room,” asked Julian of the slave, “to offer the slave flower to your master?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, gratefully.

  “Look upon her,” urged Julian.

  Otto turned in the chair to regard the slave kneeling before him.

  There were tears in her eyes.

  “Please, Master,” she said, lifting the flower delicately, timidly, to Otto, “accept my slave flower.”

  “It is worth less than that of a pig or dog,” snarled Otto.

  She put her head down. “It is true that I am only a slave, Master,” she said.

  “Keep it well in mind,” said Otto.

  “Yes, Master,” she sobbed.

  Julian lifted his hand to summon a guard, who would conduct the slave back to her quarters.

  “Wait!” said Otto, suddenly, menacingly.

  The slave looked up, frightened. Julian turned to him, puzzled. The guard hesitated to approach.

  “There is now one in the house who should be well known to you,” said Otto.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “Do you remember the Alaria,” he asked, “and the supper at the captain’s table, with Pulendius, and others?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “And surely you remember the purpose of your journey on the Alaria?”

  “Of course, Master,” she said uneasily. It had been to take her to Miton, where she was to be wedded. The marriage had been arranged with great attention to detail. Genealogies had been checked, credentials and records had been examined, biographies had been scrutinized, and the earnings, and likely future earnings, of the prospective groom had been calculated with care. The marriage had been arranged largely through the offices of the girl’s mother and her friend, the mayor, of the small city on Terennia, which was, for the district, a juristic center. Both the girl’s mother and the mayor hoped, too, to profit significantly from so favorable an alliance, soon following the girl to the first provincial quadrant, and perhaps even, later, the first imperial quadrant. Pictorials had been exchanged. The prospective groom was, of course, a same, as was the prospective bride, a matter which was of great consequence to the mother and her friend, the mayor. That was almost as important as the prospective groom’s position and income. With respect to the latter, he was, at the time, a level-four civil servant in the financial division of the first provincial quadrant. The marriage was calculatedly favorable, too, on the count of genealogy, as the prospective groom was of the 103rd degree of the Ausonii, and the bride of the 105th degree of the Auresii. The prospective bride’s name was Tribonius Auresius, and the prospective groom’s name was Tuvo Ausonius. The marriage did not take place, of course, as the Alaria, as it may be recalled, failed to enter orbit at Miton, having perhaps encountered some mishap en route.

  “Two sames are currently under arrest in this house,” said Otto. “Perhaps rumors of this have reached you.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “But, too, we may regard them as guests,” said Otto.

  “Master?” she asked.

  “One is a female, whose name, as related, is simply ‘Sesella’,” said Otto.

  “Yes, Master,” said the slave.

  “The other is a male, whose name is Tuvo Ausonius,” said Otto.

  “Tuvo Ausonius!” cried the slave.

  “I see the name is meaningful to you,” said Otto.

  “You remember something of this matter, too, do you not?” Otto inquired of Julian.

  “Yes,” said Julian. “I do.”

  “I was to wed him!” cried the slave. “He was my fiancé. I was his betrothed!”

  “You were a free woman,” said Otto.

  “Certainly, Master,” said the slave.

  “What are you now?” asked Otto.

  “A slave,” she said.

  “And do you not think it is fitting that a guest be shown hospitality in a house?”

  “Oh, no, no, Master!” she cried. “Please, no, Master!”

  “Oh?” asked Otto.

  “I hate him!” she cried. “It was an arranged marriage! I wanted nothing of it! It was the doing of my mother and another! I hated him! I despised him! I intended to make his life miserable, even to ruin him!”

  “Surely you do not think that he is interested in wedding you now, do you?” asked Otto.

  “No, Master,” she said, “for I am now a slave, no more than an animal.”

  Otto regarded her.

  “No, no, Master!” she cried.

  “What is the room of Tuvo Ausonius?” asked Otto of Julian.

  He was told.

  “How is it reached?” asked Otto.

  He was informed.

  “You have heard?” asked Otto.

  “Yes, Master,” said the slave, dismayed.

  “You are sent to him,” said Otto. “And take with you the slave flower. It is to be offered to Tuvo Ausonius.”

  “No, no!” she wept.

  “Go,” said Otto.

  “Yes, Master,” she wept.

  ***

  Flora walked unsteadily down the hall, almost unable to keep her balance.

  She was not with a guard, and on a leash, as a slave is often taken to the room of a guest, whom she is to serve. Rather she had just been told the room, and sent on her way.

  Bitter tears ran down her cheeks.

  She stopped, to put one hand against a wall, to steady herself.

  She feared she might fall.

  She saw a guard before one door, and she counted the doors to that door. No, that was not the door. There were two sames under arrest in the house. That must be the room in which the other same, the woman was. Neither, she understood, was below, secured in cells. The guard was watching her approach. She feared she was not walking well. He must, of course, over the years, have seen thousands of slaves. She had heard the guards refer to her as “a pretty one.” She was confident she would bring a better price than many, though, of course, not so good a price as many others. He was watching her approach. She tried to walk well. She did not wish to risk being struck. She had, of course, in her bondage, grown accustomed to men looking at her, watching her, considering her, speculating openly on what it might be to own her, to have her, theirs, in their arms.

  When she reached the guard, before passing him, she would kneel, and bow her head.

  She did so.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Lift your head. Straighten your back. Do not rise,” he said.

  He walked about her.

  Then, again before her, he looked at her, in detail.

  It pleased her to kneel before men.

  “You carry the slave flower,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “You may continue on your way,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  She looked at the door he guarded. Behind it was one of the sames in custody, the woman.

  In a moment she had rounded a corner and was no longer in sight of the guard.

  I hate Tuvo Ausonius, she thought. Rather would I be thrown to guards, to be put to the tiles, to serve for fear of my very life, each to tear a petal from the slave flower, than to be touched by one such as Tuvo Ausonius.

  But then she thought, suddenly, wildly, that she might master Tuvo Ausonius, manipulate him, govern him, overco
me him with misery and guilt. Was he not a same? Might she not take advantage of that complex, subtle, pervasive conditioning program used on the “same” planets to deprive men of their manhood, that program so gradually instituted and promulgated, bit by bit, rule by rule, law by law, that many did not even realize it existed, that program designed not so much to challenge healthy, natural modalities of human existence as to preclude its victims from even understanding that they existed? Yes, she thought wildly to herself, there is nothing to fear. He is already demeaned, degraded, and debased, and conquered. I need not fear him. His entire world has prepared him for defeat. There is no doubt that I will be victorious!

  She looked wildly about. No guard was in this corridor. There were various rooms. They would be, presumably, mostly empty, mostly unlocked. In some there must be wardrobes, or chests, containing garments. Surely guests must come to this holding upon occasion. Some must surely be free women, perhaps sisters, or relatives, of one degree or another, of the master of the house! Or perhaps there might be garments of sufficient opacity and modesty as to be mistaken for, or which would serve as, the garments of a free woman. If slaves were to serve at suppers at which free women were present, they might well be attired decorously. Surely, at such suppers, they would not serve naked, save for their collars. There must be something, somewhere!

  It was in the third room that she found a chest which contained suitable robes, white, even sleeved. Too, there were hose, and even shoes, small, soft, colored, delicately embroidered. Too, there were scarves which might encircle her throat, useful in concealing a steel collar.

  She thrust the slave flower in her belt, that formed from the twice-turned black cloth cord.

  She then turned her attention to the chest.

  It was seemingly a different woman who emerged from the room, after first carefully looking to the left and right.

  Doubtless there would be a guard at the door, but the door was about the next corner, across the structure, its room well separated from that of the other same, doubtless that there might be no communication between them.

  She did not think the guard would take her for a free woman. Indeed, it was altogether probably that he would recognize her. Thus, in greeting him, she must kneel. She trusted that Tuvo Ausonius would not know she had done so.

  The guard, when she turned the comer of the corridor, looked up, and leapt to his feet, from the chair, having mistaken her, naturally enough, under the circumstances, for a free woman. Then, as she approached, he regarded her closely. She knelt down a few feet from him, primarily because she feared to prolong his doubt as to her status, which might irritate him, but also because she wanted to be further from the door. She lowered her head.

  He stepped to her.

  “Flora,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “I prefer slave garb on a slave,” he said. “It is more fitting.”

  “If we are permitted clothing,” she said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “I am sent to the prisoner,” she said.

  “Never have I seen a slave so clad sent to a prisoner,” he smiled.

  She said nothing.

  “But then he is a same,” said the guard.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  She went to the door, while the guard resumed his post, the chair a few feet from the door.

  At the door she trembled, just for a moment, for she was a slave, of course, truly, and her charade had not been commanded by her master. Indeed, it had been undertaken without his knowledge. Her hand shook, and she thought, for a moment, to knock softly, even timidly, at the door, as befitted a helpless, vulnerable slave who had been sent to a guest, to be as though his until morning. But then, suddenly, angry with the thought of Tuvo Ausonius, and contemptuous of him, she struck the door clearly, decisively.

  In a moment the door was opened.

  She was taken aback a bit, for he who opened the door was not precisely what she had expected to find. Oh, it was Tuvo Ausonius all right, or bore at least some resemblance to him. That could be told from the pictorials. But those had displayed something seemingly inhibited, deceitful, venal, petulant, sullen, hypocritical, weak. The fellow who had opened the door was not only considerably larger than herself, and above average height for a male of the empire, but, more importantly, carried himself, and seemed such, as one would not expect of a same. She feared for an instant that he might not be a same, but a man, one of those creatures in the presence of which a woman could be only a woman. But, reassuringly, he wore same garb. She wished, suddenly, that she had been able to avail herself of same garb, but none, not surprisingly, had been in the rooms she had investigated.

  “Tuvo Ausonius?” she brought herself to ask.

  “Yes,” he said.

  He looked beyond her.

  Had he expected another? Had he hoped for another? This angered her.

  “May I come in?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She thrust past him, and closed the door, firmly, behind her. She noted, to her satisfaction, that the door was thick. She did not think that, given the thickness of the portal, for those of the empire’s upper classes tend to be fond of their privacy, and the position of the guard, down the hall, they would be likely to be overheard. Tuvo Ausonius seemed surprised that she had closed the door herself.

  In the center of the room she turned to face him.

  “What is wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “Perhaps you hoped for a different visitor?” she said.

  “‘Visitor’?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “Do you not recognize me?” she asked.

  “For what purpose have you come?” he asked.

  “I am a free woman!” she said.

  “I see,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Surely you recognize me?” she asked.

  “I am sorry,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I do not. Should I?”

  “I am the free woman, Tribonius Auresius!” she announced.

  “I do not think so,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “You are too pretty.”

  “‘Pretty’?” she cried. “Shame, shame!”

  “You are a same?” he asked.

  “Certainly!” she said. “And you, too, are a same!”

  “You are not dressed as a same,” he said.

  “That is not important,” she said.

  “Tribonius Auresius,” he said, “was aboard the Alaria. It never reached Miton.”

  “Nonetheless, I am she!” she said.

  “The Alaria,” he said, “I have heard it recently rumored, fell to a barbarian fleet. Distress calls supposedly made that clear. Debris was also supposedly indicative. If there were any pretty prisoners taken, they were doubtless made slaves.”

  “Shame!” she cried. “You cannot even begin to think of a woman in such terms, even hypothetically, even in the wildest stretches of your imagination! You are a same! Such a horrifying, terrifying fate for a woman could not even occur to you!”

  “I doubt that you are Tribonius Auresius,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “You are not she,” he said. “You are far more desirable, far more exciting and beautiful than she.”

  “Watch your language!” she cried. “But you saw the pictorials!”

  “They were of a rather plain, snobbish little slut,” he said, “but one who, perhaps, had some promise.”

  “Wicked man!” she cried.

  “You escaped the Alaria?” he asked.

  “Yes!” she said.

  “And kept your freedom?”

  “Yes!” she said.

  “And still retain it?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “What is the name of the mother of Tribonius Auresius?” he asked.

  He was told. It was “Cualella.”

  He then asked a number of complex questions, pertaining to
various matters, matters the answers to which would be likely to be known only to themselves.

  “I am Tribonius Auresius!” said she, at the conclusion of this inquiry.

  “Your identity is established beyond doubt,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “And what would be the purpose of attempting to deceive you with respect to such a matter?” she asked.

  “I can conceive of no such purpose,” he said. “But I am not clear as to what you are doing here, here in this house, here in this room.”

  “Surely you are overjoyed to see me,” she said, “your fiancée, your betrothed.”

  “Doubtless,” he said.

  “I was traveling in these mountains,” she said, “and sought, and was granted, hospitality, and subsequently, in pleasant converse, our relationship emerged. At that time I did not know you were here. Our host, in his graciousness, has permitted me to visit you.”

  “That is surely exceedingly kind on his part,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Though not a same, he is a gentleman,” she said.

  “Perhaps we might avail ourselves of this opportunity to renew our relationship.”

  “As sames?” she said.

  “What could be more appropriate?” he asked.

  “True,” she said.

  “I must admit,” he said, “I was somewhat put off by the somewhat calculating and mercenary nature of the arrangements connected with our prospective relationship.”

  “One cannot be too careful,” she said, “when patricians are involved.”

  “I was not overly pleased,” he said, “that you were only of the 105th degree of the Auresii.”

  “Surely the 105th degree of the Auresii is comparable to, or superior to, that of the 103rd degree of the Ausonii,” she said.

  “Scarcely,” he said.

  She reddened, angrily.

  “It is true,” he said.

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  “I gathered,” he said, “that you had certain anticipations of the nature of our relationship, and desired to impose certain conditions upon it.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  “Absolute superiority of the woman?” he asked.

  “At the very least,” she said. “It must be remembered that, even though we are both sames, that we women must protect ourselves, as we are smaller and weaker than you.”