The Captain th-2

by John Norman

  “Enough,” said Julian, clapping his hands. “Let us feast. Too, I have a surprise for you, my friend, Otto, later. But now, let us have food and drink.”

  “Slaves, serve!” said Julian, and Renata and Gerune hurried to a buffet, on which were placed numerous delicate viands and rare, precious wines.

  “Shall we withdraw?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  “By all means, remain,” said Julian, “as you are both honored guests.”

  Tuvo Ausonius and she in same garb, with him, looked at one another.

  Renata and Gerune began to place food upon the table.

  Both slaves were in brief slave tunics, and collars.

  “We are still, I gather,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “under arrest.”

  “Certainly,” said Julian.

  “I do not think my life is worth much outside this holding,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “New identities might be arranged,” said Julian.

  “My ultimate allegiance,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “is to the empire.”

  “So, too, is mine,” said Julian.

  Gerune placed a goblet before Tuvo Ausonius, and poured wine into it.

  “I think, of late,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “I have learned something of which, hitherto, I had known little.”

  “What is that?” asked Julian.

  “Honor,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “It is my hope,” said Julian, “that more in the empire will recollect it.”

  Renata poured wine for Otto. He lifted his hand, slightly, and she desisted.

  “Master, may I assist?” asked Flora, lifting her wrists to Otto.

  “Thank you, Master,” she said, freed.

  She hurried to assist in the serving.

  Otto watched her, his fists clenched. How beautiful she was, the slave. She returned in a moment with a plate filled with tiny cakes.

  “Perhaps I should send you to the kitchen, to scour the tiles,” said Otto.

  “As Master wishes,” she said.

  “You may remain,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master!” she said.

  Her flanks were exquisite, and the little slave, the vixen, was doubtless not unaware of that.

  The individual seated by Tuvo Ausonius, she in same garb, seemed uneasy, being served by the slaves, Renata and Gerune, and then Flora. It was almost as though she was frightened to be where she was, seated, at the table.

  She looked anxiously at Tuvo Ausonius, but, if he noticed her agitation, he gave no sign of it.

  Julian, however, had been considering her, with some attention, and was not unaware of her lack of ease.

  “Your colleague,” said Julian, addressing himself to Tuvo Ausonius, “is a female, is she not?”

  The garmentures, and practices, of sames are designed to minimize and obscure sexual differences.

  Among sames, by intent, it is often difficult to distinguish the sexes.

  Tuvo Ausonius turned to the individual at his side.

  “Such things are not of interest to sames, of course,” she said.

  “But you are a female, are you not?” asked Julian.

  “Yes,” she said, “I am a female.”

  “It is my understanding,” said Julian to Tuvo Ausonius, “that you are no longer a same.” This information, of course, had emerged earlier, in the interrogation of a slave.

  “That is true,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “I am no longer a same.”

  “It seems surprising then that you would travel in the company of a same,” said Julian.

  “Perhaps,” smiled Tuvo Ausonius.

  “One might expect then that one of your station, and income,” said Julian, “might own a slave.”

  “True,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “You understand that for purposes of security, we have kept you and Person Sesella separate,” said Julian.

  “Of course,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “It is not as though she were a meaningless slave,” said Julian.

  “Of course,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “And doubtless, as she is a same, she is simple, plain, homely, even ugly, and of no interest whatsoever.”

  Tuvo Ausonius looked annoyed.

  The individual beside Tuvo Ausonius, she in same garb, regarded him, frightened.

  “Here, Renata, Gerune, Flora,” said Julian. “Parade and pose before our guest.”

  The slaves did so, and well, as they were slaves, and commanded. Any personal feelings they might have had were immaterial.

  The individual beside Tuvo Ausonius became then quite agitated.

  “There are three beauties,” said Julian. “Pick any of them. She will be sent to your room this evening.”

  Gerune cast a wild, pleading glance at Julian.

  “You do not mind, do you, Otto?” said Julian.

  “No,” said Otto. “They are only slaves.”

  Renata and Flora looked at Otto, pleadingly, but knowing they were slaves.

  “None of them,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  The three girls cast wild glances about, among themselves, of relief, but, too, of surprise.

  “I would prefer another,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “I can summon others,” said Julian. “There are some in the kitchen, some with the guards, some in kennels below.”

  “May I pick my own?” asked Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Of course,” said Julian.

  “And may I offer you something?” he said.

  “Of course,” said Julian.

  “I have something here,” he said.

  He snapped his fingers.

  “Yes, Master!” cried the small figure at his side.

  She leapt gratefully, delightedly, to her feet and began to tear away the same garb which had obscured what, in a moment, was to be delightfully revealed.

  “Aii!” cried Julian.

  “Superb!” said Otto.

  “Ahhh,” cried the slaves.

  There now knelt, before the table, in a tiny tunic of red silk, and collared, a startlingly beautiful slave.

  “Excellent,” said Julian. “What do you call her?”

  “‘Sesella’,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “That is a slave name?” said Julian.

  “Of course,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “But she wore same garb,” said Julian.

  The pretty slave put her head down, frightened.

  “That seemed appropriate,” said Tuvo Ausonius, “to conceal her identity and status.”

  “I understand,” said Julian.

  “Such things are not concealed now,” said Otto.

  “No,” admitted Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Would you like to resume your place at the table?” asked Julian of the exquisite, frightened slave before him.

  “No, no, Master!” she said, frightened.

  “Why not?” he inquired.

  “I am a slave,” she said. “It is more fitting that I kneel in the presence of masters.”

  “Let Sesella, now in her turn, parade and pose,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  The slave, frightened, walked before the men.

  “Interest them,” said Tuvo Ausonius. “You are a slave.”

  The slave obeyed, pausing, crouching, kneeling, sitting, casting glances, extending a limb, calling attention, delicately, in this fashion and that, frightened, to her indisputable, marvelous, commanded loveliness.

  “Excellent,” said Julian.

  “Splendid,” said Otto.

  Well, you see, was her master’s property exhibited.

  “Obeisance,” snapped Tuvo Ausonius.

  Instantly, as slaves must obey, did she assume a common position of obeisance, kneeling, her head down to the floor, the palms of her hands on the floor.

  “An exquisite slave,” said Julian.

  “Indeed,” said Otto.

  “I offer her to either of you, or both, for the evening,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  The slave gasped in misery. Her small shoulders shook.

  “But you wou
ld like her, would you not?” asked Julian.

  “Yes,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “I shall send her to your room tonight,” said Julian.

  From the slave there came a tiny sound, of joy.

  “But are we not to be kept separated?” inquired Tuvo Ausonius.

  “If she were a free woman, of course,” said Julian. “But as she is not a free woman but only, as is now evident, a meaningless slave, it does not matter.”

  “My thanks, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Chain her well,” said Julian.

  “I shall, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “And if her cries of ecstasy become too obtrusive you might, for the sake of the rest of others, consider gagging her.”

  “Of course, milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius.

  “Perhaps, my dear,” said Julian to the slave, “you would care to assist in the serving?”

  “Yes, Master!” she said gratefully. “Thank you, Master!”

  The four slaves then, Renata, Gerune, Flora and Sesella, addressed themselves to the serving of the supper. Sesella seemed jealous to serve Tuvo Ausonius, hurrying to him, placing herself before others and such. The other slaves did not object. She was, after all, his own slave. Sometimes, of course, such competitions tend to be adjudicated later in the kitchen or slave quarters, which loci, as one might suppose, are not entirely unacquainted with biting, scratching, screaming, kicking, the pulling of hair and other such unpleasant modalities of arbitration.

  Better surely the sword and spear.

  “Is it thus,” asked Julian, turning to Otto, “that the women of the enemy, now captives, or now slaves, would serve in barbarian halls and camps?”

  “More likely, all would serve nude, save for their collars,” said Otto.

  Tuvo Ausonius snapped his fingers and Sesella, blushing, dropped aside her silk.

  A moment later Renata, at the merest glance from Otto, discarded her slave tunic. “Yes, Dira!” she whispered. “Yes!”

  Flora was already unclad, save for the band on her neck, closed by the small stout lock, in the back.

  “Please, no, Master,” said Gerune, standing before Julian.

  “You were a woman of the Ortungs, of the Drisriaks,” said Julian. “Indeed you were a princess of those tribes.”

  “Please, no, Master,” begged Gerune.

  “Would women of the empire not serve thusly at given feasts in the camps and halls of the Ortungs, of the Drisriaks?” inquired Julian.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, tears in her eyes.

  “Strip,” said Julian.

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Now continue serving,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “Now I know I am a slave,” she said.

  Later, over liqueurs, Julian called one of the guards to him.

  “I mentioned to you, earlier,” he said, “that I had a surprise in store for you.”

  “Yes?” said Otto.

  The guard returned in a moment, bearing the cylindrical leather case which had been borne earlier by the magistrate, he preceded by the twelve lictors. It had been recovered from the outer bailey, where it had fallen.

  Julian removed the cap and took from the case a rolled paper, bound with a ribbon and seal.

  “Do you know the seal?” asked Julian.

  “No,” said Otto.

  “It is the seal of the imperial war office,” he said. He broke the seal and spread the paper, flat, it curling up at the ends, on the table.

  “It is your commission,” said Julian.

  “Is it in order?” inquired Otto.

  “Yes,” said Julian. “They would not have dared, under the circumstances, it having been requested by me, not to grant the commission. Too, it would not have been issued from the war office had the authorizations not been in place. Copies of this, too, as a matter of routine, will be filed in various offices, on numerous worlds, wherever it might be thought expedient to check credentials, particularly if a breakdown in communications occurred with the capital world. In short, the commission is authentic. It is merely they had not expected it to be received. Our friend, Tuvo Ausonius, was to have seen to that, and, if that failed, the magistrate and his henchmen, serving as lictors, were to make certain of the matter.”

  “Make your mark here,” said Julian.

  A pen was brought, and Otto made a mark on the paper, where Julian indicated. Otto, raised in a festung village on Tangara, could neither read nor write. In this he did not differ from millions throughout the empire. His mark was a crudely drawn, very carefully drawn, very slowly drawn, spear.

  “Gerune, bring drink!” said Julian.

  He was standing.

  Gerune hurried forward and filled the goblets of the men.

  “Captain!” said Julian, lifting his goblet.

  “Captain!” said Tuvo Ausonius, rising to his feet.

  “My thanks,” said Otto, acknowledging the toast.

  The three men drank.

  Though it seemed a small thing, and one is not to be blamed for thinking little of such things at the time, this was an evening, and a moment, which later assumed some importance in the history of the empire. Some have seen it as one of those mysterious hinges on which fate is sometimes, at a much later date, noted to have turned.

  “It is late!” said Julian.

  “Gather up your things,” said Tuvo Ausonius to Sesella.

  “Master?” she asked, finding the envelope which he had given into her hands earlier in the afternoon, when he had ordered her from the room, shortly before he, Julian and Otto, following Julian, had vacated the same room, which shortly thereafter had been rocked with an explosion. Sesella had placed the envelope within the same garb, but had not raised the question of its contents. If she had been a free woman it would not have been appropriate for her to have opened it, and as a slave, of course, it would have been far less appropriate. Indeed, as a slave, she would not have dared to open it. A slave knows her place, and, under certain circumstances, fears for her very skin and life. Too, it may be recalled that she and Tuvo Ausonius had been kept separated after their arrest until the supper of this evening. Little opportunity had occurred at supper to bring up the matter, and, in any event, it would not, even had she not been a mere slave, have seemed appropriate to have done so. Now, however, she lifted the envelope. Should it, whatever it might be, whatever its contents might be, be returned to Tuvo Ausonius, or should she keep it with the same garb? Obviously there was no place to keep it in the bit of silk in her grasp.

  “May I?” asked Julian, extending his hand.

  “Yes, Milord,” said Tuvo Ausonius, reddening slightly.

  Sesella surrendered the envelope to Julian and he opened it, and perused the contents.

  “Person Ausonius, it seems,” said Julian to the slave Sesella, now kneeling before him, “suspected the treachery of Iaachus, arbiter of protocol, or that of someone purportedly acting on his behalf. He had apparently intended to risk opening the case while unattended, in the event his suspicions were justified. But he had with him a slave, of whom, despite the fact she was a mere slave, he had, it seems, made the mistake of permitting himself to grow fond.”

  Sesella threw a wild, joyful glance at Tuvo Ausonius, but he glared at her, angrily, with embarrassed savagery, and she instantly lowered her head, but seemed to smile.

  “These papers,” said Julian, “pertain to such a slave.”

  Sesella lifted her head.

  “Flora,” said Julian.

  The slave girl addressed was kneeling to one side.

  “Master?” she said.

  “You have had some training in the law, have you not?” asked Julian.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “To be sure,” said Julian, “given your nature, it would have been better had you been trained as a slave girl from the cradle.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “What do you think is the purport of these papers?” asked
Julian.

  “They are doubtless papers of manumission, Master,” said Flora.

  “No!” protested Sesella.

  “It is clear you are from Terennia,” smiled Julian.

  “Master?” asked Flora.

  “Do you not understand that lovely Sesella is as much a slave girl as you?”

  “Yes, Master,” said Flora.

  “Do you think that slave girls are freed?” he asked.

  “No, Master,” she said.

  “Do you think these are papers of manumission?” Julian asked Sesella.

  “I trust not, Master,” she said.

  “The purport of these papers,” said Julian, “is that his wealth, and estate, what they are, and certain funds supposed to have been deposited on Miton in his name, were to be used to secure you a light slavery and a kind master.”

  “Ah,” said Sesella.

  “Incidentally, Person Ausonius,” said Julian, “I rather suspect that the funds supposed to have been deposited for you on Miton have not been so deposited.”

  Tuvo Ausonius nodded.

  One who has been blasted to atoms had little need of such resources.

  “What think you of the generosity of your master?” asked Julian.

  “I do not know if my master knows that what he owns is truly a slave girl,” said Sesella.

  “Oh?” said Julian.

  Tuvo Ausonius regarded her, with interest.

  “The thought means much to me,” she said.

  “Speak clearly,” said Julian.

  “I want my slavery to be real,” she said. “I want to know that I am a slave.”

  “The lightness of your slavery is not important to you?” asked Julian.

  “Such matters,” she said, “are at the discretion of the master. I am a slave.”

  “A master is to be under no obligations in such matters?”

  “No, Master,” she said.

  “But surely you would wish a kind master,” said Julian.

  “I want a strong master,” she said, “one who is not weak, one who will take what he wants from me, as he wants it, and how he wants it, one who will not compromise in the least with me.”

  “Surely you would want him to be kind?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “At least sometimes. And sometimes we hope desperately for that.”

  “I see,” said Julian.

  “But such things are meaningless,” she said, “except against a background of strength, a background of leather and iron.”