The blurring of sexual differences, with its attendant deleterious consequences on sexual relations and identity, the reduction of male vitality and the frustration of female fulfillment, is not, for better or worse, encouraged. The denial and frustration of nature, the betrayal and subversion of sexuality, it is possible, may not be in the long-term best interest of the human species. Sexism, thus, in a sense, may not be a vice, but the hope of a race. Unisex, not taken for granted as an aspect of a pathological culture, but understood, in depth, could be of interest, it seems, only to somewhat short-sighted or unusual organisms.
I saw a white, female slave walking by. She was in someone's collar. She was stripped.
I had not been given a quirt, a permission quirt, beaded, such as might give a male slave power over such women. I looked at her. She was luscious. I could not so much as touch her.
"What are you going to do?" asked Cuwignaka.
"I think maybe I will go look for Wasnapohdi," I said.
"I thought you might," said Cuwignaka.
I looked about.
"Have you seen Grunt?" I asked. Wasnapohdi would presumably be somewhere in his whereabouts. At least that was one's best guess.
"I saw him this morning," said Cuwignaka. "He seemed troubled."
"Why?" I asked.
"I do not know," said Cuwignaka.
"Bloketu and Iwoso are in the vicinity," I said. I had seen them, when I had looked about. "It seems they are visiting."
"Of course," said Cuwignaka, working the hide.
"How is it that Bloketu hates you so?" I asked.
"I do not know," said Cuwignaka. "Once we were friends."
"They are coming this way," I said.
Cuwignaka bent even more closely over the hide. There seemed now a subtle anger in his movements.
It is common, of course, for women to mock one such as Cuwignaka. Bloketu, on the other hand, seemed to take a malicious and peculiar delight in doing so.
"I had a dream last night about Bloketu," said Cuwignaka.
"Oh?" I said.
"That I collared her and owned her," he said.
"And when she was stripped did you put the quirt to her well?" I asked.
"Yes," he said, "and then I much pleased myself with her."
"A good dream," I said.
"Yes," said Cuwignaka.
"Oh, Iwoso," called out Bloketu, coming up, "here is that pretty girl we met on the prairie, you know, the one in the white-woman's dress."
"I remember," said Iwoso.
"She had cut so much meat! The poles of the travois even bent!"
"Yes," said Iwoso. Iwoso looked behind her, as if she expected to see someone.
"But she was such a naughty girl," said Bloketu. "She disobeyed the Sleen Soldier and she lost all that meat."
Iwoso laughed.
"What is her name? It is Cuwignaka, is it not?" laughed Bloketu.
"Yes," said Iwoso.
"Ah, Cuwignaka," said Bloketu, "you are fortunate that you are not the woman of a Kaiila warrior. If you were he might have taken that white dress off your pretty little body and lashed you well. Thus you might learn your lesson, not to lose meat again that way."
"It is he again," whispered Iwoso to Bloketu, looking behind her.
"Oh?" said Bloketu. She turned about, angrily.
On his kaiila, in his breechclout, his hair braided, without feathers, sat Hci. He looked down on the two girls, afoot.
"Are you following us about?" asked Bloketu.
"It is rumored that there may be peace with the Yellow Knives," said Hci.
"I have heard that rumor," said Bloketu.
"They are our enemies," said Hci. He looked at Iwoso.
"If you wish to court Iwoso," said Bloketu, "you may come to the lodge tonight and sit outside, cross-legged, playing the love flute. I will then decide whether or not I will permit my maiden to leave the lodge."
"You have not yet taken away her leggings, nor put her in a short dress and collar," said Hci.
"It is not necessary to follow Iwoso about like a panting sleen," said Bloketu.
"It is not for such purposes that I follow her," said Hci. "If I want her, I will come to your lodge. I will offer a kaiila for her and bring a rope."
"That you are a Sleen Soldier does not permit you to speak so!" said Bloketu.
"This morning," said Hci, "Watonka, and you two, left the camp of the Isanna."
"He was spying on us," said Iwoso.
"You met other riders," said Hci. "I found the tracks. What did you do?"
"Nothing," said Bloketu.
"Who were the other riders?" asked Hci.
"You are an expert tracker," said Bloketu. "You tell me. Surely you examined the dust for the print of moccasins?" Different tribes have, usually, slightly different moccasin patterns, resulting in subtly different prints. To be sure, it usually takes a sharp print to make these discriminations. There is no difficulty, of course, in distinguishing between boots of the sort common with white riders and moccasins, the almost universal footwear of the red savages. They are worn even in the winter. In the winter they are often lined, for insulation and warmth, with hair or dried grass.
"None dismounted," said Hci.
"They were Isanna hunters," said Bloketu.
"No hunting parties of the Isanna left camp this morning," said Hci.
"Oh," said Bloketu.
"Watonka himself had so ordered it," said Hci.
"They were Wismahi," said Bloketu.
"They were Yellow Knives," said Hci. "Three of them."
"You cannot know that," said Bloketu, angrily.
"It would be for such a reason that you would take the Yellow-Knife slave with you," said Hci, looking at Iwoso, "to converse with them."
"Slave!" cried Iwoso, angrily.
"Yes, slave," said Hci.
Bloketu looked about. "Do not speak too loudly," she said. "You are right, Hci. They were Yellow Knives. And Iwoso has been very helpful. She can speak with them, other than in sign, which we cannot. They contacted Watonka. They wish to make peace with the Kaiila."
"That is wonderful," said Cuwignaka.
"Attend to your work, Girl," said Hci to Cuwignaka, "or I will put you to sewing."
Cuwignaka, angrily, sat back on his heels. In sewing, commonly, among the red savages, a roll of rawhide string is held balled in the mouth, and played out, bit by bit. The warmth and saliva in the mouth keeps the string moist and pliable. The thrusting end is twisted and wet. It is then thrust through holes punched in the leather with a metal or bone awl. The moist thread, of course, as well as being easier to work with, tends to shrink in drying and make tighter stitches. With the ball of hide string in the mouth, of course, it is difficult to speak. When a woman, then, finds herself being advised by her man to attend to her sewing, she understands, well enough, that it is now time for her to be silent. She has been, in effect, ordered to put a gag in her own mouth.
"You may not know of this, Hci," said Bloketu, "but Mahpiyasapa and the other chieftains know of it. There will be a council on the matter."
"The Yellow Knives are our enemies," said Hci. "There will never be peace with them."
"Was it really the Yellow Knives who first contacted Watonka?" asked Hci.
"Yes," she said.
"I find that hard to believe," said Hci.
"Why?" asked Bloketu.
"I know Yellow Knives," said Hci, his hand straying to the long scar at the left side of his chin. "I have met them, lance to lance, club to club, knife to knife."
"There is more to life than collecting coups," said Bloketu.
"That is probably true," said Hci, regarding Iwoso. Quickly she put her head down. She was very pretty. She had been captured from Yellow Knives at the age of twelve. I thought I agreed with Hci. She was now old enough to be a man's true slave.
"Do not be afraid, Hci," laughed Bloketu. "There were only three of them, and this is the time of the great dances."
&nbs
p; During the summer festivals, and the time of the great dances, warfare and raiding is commonly suspended on the prairie. This is a time of truce and peace. The celebrating tribe, during its own festival period, naturally refrains from belligerent activities. Similarly, interestingly, enemy tribes, during this period, perhaps in virtue of an implicit bargain, that their own festival times be respected, do not attack them, or raid them. For the red savages the festival times in the summer, whenever they are celebrated by the various tribes, are the one time in the year when they are territorially and politically secure. These are very happy times, on the whole, for the tribes. It is nice to know that one is, at such times, safe. More than one war party, it is recorded, penetrating deeply into enemy territory, and seeing the high brush walls of a dance lodge, and discovering that it was the enemy's festival time, has politely withdrawn. This sort of thing is not historically unprecedented. For example, in ancient Greece the times of certain games, such as the Olympic games, constituted a truce period during which it was customary to suspend the internecine wars of competitive cities. Teams and fans from the combatant poleis then could journey to and from the stadiums in safety. Two additional reasons militating against bellicosity and martial aggression during the summer festivals might be mentioned. First, the size of these gatherings, the enemy being massed, so to speak, tends to reduce the practicality of attacks. Bands of men are not well advised to launch themselves upon nations. Secondly, it is supposedly bad medicine to attack during the times of festivals.
"I do not trust Yellow Knives," said Hci.
"It is all right, Hci," said Bloketu. "Ask your father, Mahpiyasapa, if you like."
Hci shrugged, angrily.
"There is to be a council on the matter," said Bloketu.
It did seem to me plausible, if the Yellow Knives wished to sue for peace, and if they had contacted Watonka, or if he had contacted them, that it would have been done at this time, at the time of the gathering, of the dances and feasts. This would seem to be the ideal time for such probings, such contacts, and any pertinent attendant negotiations.
Iwoso looked up. Hci was still regarding her. Such obvious scrutiny would not have been appropriate, of course, if she had not been a slave. Iwoso, again, put down her head.
"Oh," laughed Bloketu, light-heartedly, as if desiring to shift the locus of discourse, "I see you were not really spying on us, at all, Hci. You were only pretending to do so! You are a sly young fellow! You wanted an excuse to follow Iwoso!"
"No," said Hci. This was a form of teasing which Hci did not enjoy.
"I know you find Iwoso attractive," said Bloketu, laughing. "I have seen you look at her."
"She is only a Yellow-Knife slave," said Hci.
"She has been with the Kaiila since the age of twelve," said Bloketu. "She is as much Kaiila as Yellow Knife."
"No," said Hci. "She is a Yellow Knife. It is in her blood."
"Perhaps, Iwoso," said Bloketu, "I will let Hci court you."
"No, please, no!" said Iwoso. I saw that she, genuinely, feared Hci, and deeply. I did not fully understand this at the time. I would later.
"Then I shall decide," said Bloketu to Iwoso, "whether or not you shall accept him."
"No, please," said Iwoso.
"Do you dispute me, my maiden?" asked Bloketu.
"No," said Iwoso, miserably.
"She should say that on her knees, with her head down," said Hci.
"You men would like us all to be your helpless slaves," said Bloketu, angrily.
I saw Cuwignaka looking at Bloketu. I thought he was, perhaps, in his mind, undressing her. He was speculating, perhaps, on what she might look like, divested of her high station, divested of the jewelry and finery of a chieftain's daughter, put to a man's feet, collared, waiting to be commanded.
"Do you want Iwoso?" asked Bloketu, angrily, of Hci.
Hci shrugged. "She is a Yellow Knife," he said. "She might do as a slave. I do not know."
"Do you want her?" asked Bloketu.
"She might look well naked," said Hci.
"You are speaking of my maiden," said Bloketu, scandalized.
"—On a rope, under a whip," added Hci.
"Bloketu!" protested Iwoso.
"If you want her," said Bloketu, angrily, "you must court her properly."
"I do not court Yellow-Knife women," said Hci. "I kill them, or collar them." He then pulled his kaiila about and, kicking his heels back into the flanks of the beast, took his leave.
"What an arrogant young man," said Bloketu.
"Do not let him court me," begged Iwoso.
"I might let him court you," said Bloketu.
"Please, no," said Iwoso.
"Then," said Bloketu, smiling, "I might let you spurn him. That would be an excellent lesson for the fellow. Let his suit be rejected, his wooing publicly scorned. It would be a good joke."
"I would rather," said Iwoso, "that you did not permit him to court me at all."
"Why?" asked Bloketu.
"Suppose I spurn his suit," she said, "and he is angry. Suppose he seizes me, and binds me, and carries me away."
"He would not dare," said Bloketu.
"I am only a slave," said Iwoso.
"Have no fear," said Bloketu. "You are my maiden."
"Please do not let him court me," begged Iwoso.
"I will do what I want," said Bloketu.
"Yes, Bloketu," said Iwoso.
"You are afraid of him, are you not?" asked Bloketu.
"Yes," said Iwoso. "I would be terrified to have to go to his lodge."
"Interesting," said Bloketu.
"You are free, and the daughter of a chief," said Iwoso. "That is why you cannot understand my fear. But I am only, really, a slave."
"Slaves are so fearful," said Bloketu.
"If you were a slave, you, too, would know fear," said Iwoso.
"Perhaps," said Bloketu.
"We are owned," said Iwoso.
I thought I saw the chieftain's daughter shudder, momentarily, a tiny shudder, one which seemed to be of fear and, if I am not mistaken, of deep excitement and pleasure, perhaps at the wickedly horrifying thought of herself being a slave, of herself being owned. At any rate, I did not think that the lovely Bloketu, if she were to find herself truly enslaved, would experience any difficulty in learning fear. She, like any other slave, I was certain, would acquire it quite easily. It is a property which attaches naturally to the condition. The slave girl is totally at the mercy of the master, in any and every way. It is not surprising, therefore, that she is no stranger to fear.
"If you permit Hci to court me," begged Iwoso, "please do not have me accept his suit."
"I will do what I want," said Bloketu.
"Please do not have me accept his suit!" begged Iwoso.
"We will see what mood I am in at the time," said Bloketu, loftily.
"Please!" said Iwoso.
"We will see how I feel at the time," said Bloketu, "whether Hci is nice or not, whether or not I am pleased with you. What I do then will depend on such things."
"Please," begged Iwoso.
"Do not anger me, maiden," said Bloketu, "or I may send you to him for the night, without your clothes and tied, maybe with a quirt tied around your neck, like you were a white female slave!"
Iwoso was immediately silent.
"That is better, my maiden," smiled Bloketu. "Remember you are not yet important."
Iwoso did not respond. I did not understand Bloketu's remark about Iwoso not yet being important. I gathered that something might possibly happen, following which Iwoso might become important. If that was the case, then, I gathered, she would not have to worry about Hci, or, I suppose, other warriors of the Kaiila.
"Are you obedient, my maiden?" asked Bloketu of Iwoso, sweetly.
"Yes, Mistress," said Iwoso, her head down. This was the first time I had ever heard Iwoso use this word to Bloketu. It is not unusual for a girl to discover that within her velvet bonds there are chains o
f steel.
"Why should Iwoso become important?" asked Cuwignaka, kneeling near the hide on which he was working. It seemed to me a fair question. Iwoso was, in the final analysis, in spite of being the maiden of a chieftain's daughter, only a slave.
"It does not matter," said Bloketu.
"I would like to know," said Cuwignaka. "I am curious."
"Such matters are not the proper concern of one who is only a pretty young girl like yourself," laughed Bloketu.
"I am not a female slave," said Cuwignaka, "expected to serve in ignorance, unquestioningly, supposedly concerned, truly, only with the pleasures of her master."
"Then you admit that you are a mere female," said Bloketu.
"No," said Cuwignaka.
"Listen to the pretty young thing!" laughed Bloketu.
"I am two years older than you, at least," said Cuwignaka.
"You lost meat!" laughed Bloketu.
"Tell me," said Cuwignaka.
"I think I will call a man, pretty Cuwignaka," she said, "to put you about your sewing."
"It has to do with the Yellow Knives, does it not?" asked Cuwignaka.
"Maybe," smiled Bloketu. I saw that she was very vain. Cuwignaka, too, must have understood this.
"If Iwoso is to become important," said Cuwignaka, "then doubtless you would be even more important."
"Perhaps," said Bloketu.
"And if you are important," said Cuwignaka, puzzled, "then surely Watonka, your father, would be even more important."
Blood Brothers of Gor Page 11