by John Norman
"Yes,” said Cabot. “Joined, for the pledging of blood and honor to Agamemnon."
"Then the weapons began to fire,” said Peisistratus. “The theater itself seemed a furnace of flames. They were cut down, burned alive, from all sides. We could see the blackened bodies, crowded together, bursting and smoking, smell the flesh."
"It is enough,” said Lord Grendel. “It is enough."
"That is the amnesty of Agamemnon,” said a Kur.
"In that cauldron,” said a Kur, “would have been brethren, folk of our camp, who fought with us, our brothers, who trusted the word of Agamemnon."
"Now,” said a Kur, “I am no longer afraid to die."
"There were four hundred with you?” said Cabot.
"Some such number,” said Peisistratus, his head down.
"There are few here,” said Cabot.
"We fled, unarmed,” said Peisistratus. “We knew we would be sought. In the forest we encountered noble Flavion, who brought us here."
"There were four hundred?” said Cabot.
"Flavion rallied us, and reassured us,” said Peisistratus. “He bade us wait until he had scouted a passage which might be traversed with security. We waited."
"How long?” asked Cabot.
Persistratus shrugged. “I do not know,” he said. “Four ahn, five, I do not know."
"What then?"
"Noble Flavion, our rescuer and guide, returned, and we began our trek."
"There were four hundred,” pressed Cabot.
"Alas,” said Flavion, in Kur distress, though the voice emerged quietly enough, precisely, as always, on Cabot's translator. “We were ambushed in a defile, cut to pieces. Only the head of the column, I fear, I and some others, these, who had already exited the defile, survived."
"You were fortunate,” said Cabot.
"Surely more so than others,” came from Cabot's translator.
"Welcome to our camp,” said Lord Grendel to Peisistratus and his fellows, and beasts. “Rest, and feed."
"In the theater,” said Cabot, to Peisistratus, “all were slain?"
"Yes,” said Peisistratus. “Kur, male and female, and human, male and female."
"Even your beasts, your female slaves?” asked Cabot.
"All,” said Peisistratus, dismally.
"It would be the way of Agamemnon,” said a Kur.
"He is thorough,” said another.
Cabot turned slowly about, and went to where his own beast, the girl, Lita, was fastened, her wrists crossed, and bound, over her head.
"You heard?” he asked.
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"It seems I will not return you to the habitats,” said Cabot.
"A girl rejoices,” she whispered.
"It would be a waste of beast,” he said.
"Yes, Master,” she said. “Master."
"Yes?” he said.
"Your whip was uncoiled."
Cabot reached down and retrieved the whip, and then, slowly folding its blades back, against the staff, he touched it, gently, to her back.
"My Master has beaten me,” she said.
"Yes,” said Cabot, wearily.
She turned her head, and pursed her lips, pleadingly, and Cabot held the whip to her lips, and she kissed it, gratefully, fervently.
He then untied her and, retrieving her tunic, tossed it to her. “Help with the food,” he said. “And prepare places of repose. Our guests must eat, and will then wish to rest."
"Yes, Master,” she said.
"I would speak to you,” said Lord Grendel to Tarl Cabot.
Cabot joined him, to the side.
"Do you not find it surprising,” asked Lord Grendel, “that the route of the fugitives was so accurately and promptly descried?"
"Doubtless a tragic fortuity,” said Cabot.
"Do you believe that?” asked Lord Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot.
"Nor do I,” said Lord Grendel. “My friend."
"Yes?” said Cabot.
"I believe Lord Agamemnon has made his first, and greatest, mistake,” said Grendel.
"How is that?” asked Cabot.
"The profession of the amnesty,” said Grendel, “and then the massacres."
"Was it not clever?” asked Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel. “For it is not Kur."
"Many would suppose it was very Kur,” said Cabot.
"No,” said Grendel. “It was not Kur."
Chapter, the Fifty-First:
A CAVE IS FOUND EMPTY
"He is not here,” said Cabot.
Peisistratus had been left in charge of the humans in the camp of Lord Grendel's band, and Statius, who had once been no more than a despised nondominant, had been deputized to command the Kurii of the camp, and, as he was Kur, was sovereign in the camp.
Lord Grendel and Cabot had trekked about Lake Fear, on its nearer side to the habitats, in order to recover and burn the remains of Lord Arcesilaus, whom they had expected to find dead in the cave in which they had left him, long ago, sorely wounded, but, too, to replenish a supply of weapon points, for themselves, at least. Many of the humans had now accustomed themselves to the bow, of one strength or another, but there was a considerable shortage of suitable headings for these missiles, many now being merely sharpened sticks, fletched. Some heads had been made from stone and bent, folded bits of metal, but such expedients were makeshift, at best. A classical stone for such purposes, reasonably convenient to shape, was not available in the world, flint.
It had not been difficult for Lord Grendel and his human ally, Tarl Cabot, to locate the cave in which they had left Lord Arcesilaus, but, upon entering the cave, they had found it empty.
"Lord Arcesilaus bled here,” said Cabot, pointing to the rear of the cave.
"The stains are not fresh,” said Lord Grendel.
"Doubtless he died of his wounds, and animals, smelling blood and death, dragged the body from the cave,” said Cabot.
"Let us hope he was dead before they came upon him,” said Lord Grendel.
"There is no sign of a struggle,” said Cabot. “The vessels are muchly as we left them. There seem no marks in the floor dust."
"It is possible he was discovered, and then captured, and returned to Agamemnon,” said Lord Grendel.
"In any event, he is not here,” said Cabot.
Cabot and Lord Grendel had had much better fortune with the smith who had fashioned the first weapon points, pretending, at least, that he took them to be ornamental pendants.
To be sure, Cabot's last silver coins, from the wager of Peisistratus, had now been expended in this small market.
Each now bore a sack, containing hundreds of such points.
"Do you think it was wise to have left Flavion behind, in the camp?” asked Cabot.
"Yes,” said Lord Grendel. “Let him think himself unsuspected. Let him be sessile, biding his time, projecting new treacheries. We may be able to put him to use."
"What if he betrays the camp?” asked Cabot.
"It would be only one camp,” said Lord Grendel. “He wishes to be of greater value to Agamemnon than that. Better, if regroupings should occur, to gather intelligence on a dozen camps, on a dozen leaders, on a dozen strategies. Let him think he lies coiled amongst us like an ost at our feet, unsuspected, unnoted, aware, listening."
"The insurrection is finished,” said Cabot. “Only pockets of resistance remain, waiting to be dealt with, one by one."
"Our venture here is finished,” said Lord Grendel. “We shall return to the camp."
"Excellent,” said Cabot.
"Perhaps you are anxious to return to your pretty little beast,” said Lord Grendel.
"The shapely collar slut, Lita?” said Cabot.
"Yes,'’ said Lord Grendel.
"Perhaps,” said Cabot, lightly.
"You spoke in your sleep,” said Grendel.
"It is hard for a master to be without his slave,” said Cabot.
"And one thing is harder th
an that,” said Grendel.
"And what is that?” asked Cabot.
"Had you not put slave fires in her belly?” asked Grendel.
"It is true she is a slave,” said Cabot.
"And that is it,” said Grendel.
"What?” asked Cabot.
"The one thing that is harder than for a master to be without his slave,” said Grendel.
"And what is that?” said Cabot.
"For a slave to be without her master,” said Grendel.
"I would suppose it is really much the same,” said Cabot.
"I rather doubt it,” said Lord Grendel. “I have often reflected upon the mercilessness of masters, who so unilaterally and imperiously put helpless slaves into the throes of such needs."
"It does make them more desperately dependent, and easier to control,” said Cabot.
"I would not be surprised,” said Lord Grendel, “if the sexual needs, the helplessness, the passion, of human females far exceeded that of males."
"Only when they have been sexually awakened,” said Cabot. “I know a world where many males would be surprised to encounter that speculation."
"I think I have heard of such a world,” said Grendel.
"It is not Gor,” smiled Cabot.
"No,” said Lord Grendel. “It would be such a very different world, such a tragic, self-denying, unfulfilled world."
"In the world of which you may be thinking,” said Cabot, “not all women are sexually inert, torpid, or dormant. Some have the urgent, needful bellies of Gorean slave girls."
"But that is unusual, is it not?” asked Grendel.
"It is hard to tell,” said Cabot, “but the common view is that it would be unusual."
"Strange,” said Lord Grendel, “given the extensive distribution of sexually vital tissue in the human female, its globality, and its subtle interrelationships with thought and feeling, and such. It would seem, as one thinks about it, that almost their entire body is, in its way, a sexual organ. Consider, for example, their sensitivity, their awareness of the subtlest colors, scents, and textures. Even their skin is alive, responsive to the slightest touch, to the least whispers and nuances of their environment."
"It is true that if you put them naked on certain surfaces, sometimes tiles, sometimes a rug, they find themselves, sometimes to their dismay, in a state of sexual arousal."
"And tied naked to a tree?"
"Of course,” said Cabot.
"Human females, it seems to me,” said Grendel, “are quite remarkable. It seems to me that each presents for a master's delectation a unique gift and property of emotion, consciousness, subtlety, and sensation."
"It is certainly pleasant to own them,” said Cabot.
"And how vital, alive, and sensitive they are!"
"They are aware, of course,” said Cabot, “of the coarseness of rope constricting their limbs, the weight of iron on a limb, a wrist, an ankle, such things."
"And the feel of a collar on their neck?"
"Doubtless,” said Cabot.
"And to the brush of silk,” said Grendel, “and to the scent of a perfume."
"Particularly,” said Cabot, “to one they know has been prepared for a slave."
"So I fail to understand,” said Grendel, “how it is, if it be true, that so many of the women of the world we may have in mind are seemingly strangers to their bodies and needs."
"Presumably there are explanations,” said Cabot.
"Are they a different sort of woman?” asked Grendel.
"No,” said Cabot. “Certainly not. Bring them to Gor, put them in collars, and sell them, and they are soon amongst the hottest of slaves. Certainly they bring high prices off the block."
"Then I do not understand it,” said Lord Grendel.
"In the history of the world of which we may be speaking,” said Cabot, “for thousands of years women were recognized, and even feared, for the intensity of their sexuality. They were the needful ones, the pleaders, the seducers, the temptresses, those to be guarded against."
"Interesting,” said Grendel.
"Much has to do, I am sure,” said Cabot, “with cultural prescriptions, societal dictates, requirements, influences, pressures, and such things. When a society is seized by the ill-constituted, the miserable, the sick, the self-fearing, the weak, the haters, and such, it is natural they would mold, as they can, their world in their own pathological image. Too, when a world becomes essentially a machine, with countless interlocking, dehumanized parts, practices, and procedures, there is little room or time left for the long-forgotten animals, once human, who tend to its needs, and now wander about within it, lost in its mazes."
Lord Grendel was silent.
"There is some possibility,” said Cabot, “that the seeming dearth of female passion on such a world, seemingly so unnaturally pervasive, seemingly so inexplicable, is actually in its way an evidence not of the absence or weakness of female drives and needs, but of their remarkable strength, which requires for its suppression societal devices of such detail and power."
"Women must be turned against women?” said Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot. “It is forbidden to them, so to speak, to open certain doors, to look into certain mirrors, for fear of what they might find, for fear of what they might see."
"It seems a tragic waste of woman,” said Grendel.
"True,” said Cabot.
"It seems they are sexually asleep,” said Grendel.
"In their dreams, and fantasies,” said Cabot, “I suspect that few are sexually asleep."
"They fear nature, and themselves?” asked Grendel.
"Perhaps,” said Cabot. “Certainly in nature there are obvious, pervasive complementarities, and they are females."
"You speak of dominance and submission?” asked Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"They fear to find their masters?"
"I do not think so,” said Cabot. “I think, rather, they long to find them."
"Interesting,” said Grendel.
"And they realize, if only in their secret dreams, that they will not be whole until they kneel before them."
"I understand, from what you have said,” said Grendel, “that the women of Earth bring high prices in the Gorean markets."
"Often,” said Cabot. “And the prices reflect the discovered value of the goods."
"Of course,” said Grendel.
"Many men seek them out,” said Cabot.
"They make excellent slaves?"
"The collar frees them,” said Cabot.
"Certainly you yourself have had the pleasure to own and master slaves,” said Grendel.
"Some,” said Cabot.
"Your Lita,” said Grendel, “wept muchly, and annoyingly, I fear, at our departure from the camp."
"She was importunate,” said Cabot. “She wished to accompany us, but the chain on her left ankle, she holding out her hands to us, and sobbing, held her to the tree."
"Your merest word should have been sufficient,” said Grendel.
"Perhaps,” said Cabot, irritably.
"You are fond of her, I fear,” said Grendel.
"She is a mere slave,” said Cabot, lightly.
"But surely she has properties of interest,” said Grendel.
"I suppose so,” said Cabot. “She is quite intelligent, and quite beautiful, that in both face and figure. Certainly she would look well, exhibited on a block. And she is vital, healthy, sensitive, aware, deeply emotional, and now, in bondage, exquisitely, helplessly, vulnerably feminine."
"And she looks well in a collar?"
"Certainly,” said Cabot. “She was born for one."
"I gather she was superficial, unpleasant, troubled, confused, nasty, unhappy, insolent, vain, and petty on Earth."
"She was not then in a collar,” said Cabot.
"It seems she has now grown a thousand times in character, awareness, and emotional depth,” said Grendel.
"She is now a slave,” said Cabot,
shrugging.
"And in her belly there are now slave fires?” said Grendel.
"Yes,” said Cabot.
"And they rage?"
"Frequently,” said Cabot.
"And this puts her the more at your mercy?"
"Of course,” said Cabot.
"It is doubtless pleasant to have a beautiful woman, naked, in a slave collar, crawl to you, begging you for your touch."
"It is not unpleasant,” acknowledged Cabot.
"She would seem an excellent slave."
"She is still being trained,” said Cabot.
"You think she would bring a high price?"
"I think so,” said Cabot.
"Then,” said Lord Grendel, “one must keep her under the fiercest and most perfect discipline."
"For what reason?” asked Cabot.
"To keep her worthy of her price,” said Grendel.
"I see,” said Cabot.
"She carried on, lamentably,” said Lord Grendel, “when we left the camp. It was embarrassing. What were our brothers to think?"
"She was distraught,” said Cabot. “I think it is healthy to let a slave give vent to her feelings, to sob, or weep, if she will."
"To an extent, perhaps,” said Grendel, “but then she should be put to silence, with no more than a look, or word. She can always thrash about, and moan, and weep, and sob, later, when she wishes, in decent privacy, in her cage, on her chain, or such."
"I did not realize you were an authority on human female slaves,” said Cabot.
"She needs a taste of the whip,” said Grendel.
"She is a woman of Earth,” said Cabot.
"All the more reason,” said Grendel.
"I see,” said Cabot.
"And how is she to know she is truly a slave, and you are truly her master, if you do not put the whip to her?"
"I see,” said Cabot.
"She wants to be under your whip,” said Lord Grendel.
"How do you know that?” asked Cabot.
"It is obvious,” said Lord Grendel.
"I do not recall your putting the leather to the Lady Bina,” said Cabot.
"Certainly not,” said Grendel, shocked. “That would be wholly inappropriate. She is a free woman."
"Do you still suspect her of treachery, in the matter of the arsenal?"
"Certainly,” said Grendel. “Clearly, she is guilty. Flavion himself could not well have exited the camp so closely before the attack, at least not for any length of time, without attracting attention, and perhaps suspicion. He arranged for her to escape from the camp. How else could it have been managed? And he sent her ahead to Agamemnon, doubtless with signs, and countersigns. Each is guilty. Each was the confederate of the other."