Renegades of Gor coc-23

by John Norman

  I hurried up the broad stone steps to the surface of the platform over the main gate. This area, at least at the moment, perhaps because of its height, and its position over the gate, the ground below soon to be blocked by the ram, the men working it protected by its sturdy shed, was empty. It would have made an excellent command post for Aemilianus, I thought, but, I gathered, he must be below, in the vicinity of the gate. Perhaps he thought, and rightfully, for all I knew, that there lay the greatest danger. I supposed that by now tons of rock would have been piled behind the gate. Still the ram might attempt its entry there, pounding through the brass facing riveted into the thick beams of the gate, punching, driving it back, snapping the crossbars, forcing back, blow by blow, even the rock and sand behind.

  I placed Lady Publia on her back at our feet, near the mount for the spear. I then dismissed her from my mind, for the moment.

  I considered the approaching towers, the thousands of men I could see in the field, the ladders being carried, the supporting engines. I then regarded the walls. There were too few men there. The results of the battle were a foregone conclusion. The Cosians had waited long for this day.

  I looked up to my left. There, on a pole, defiantly, snapped a torn flag, bearing in yellow the single "Ar' on a red background with, beneath it, a wavy yellow band. This was the flag of Ar's Station, signifying the power of Ar on the Vosk. I did not think it would be there long.

  I then lifted the tall impaling spear from its mount, laying it, with a sound, beside the supine, bound figure. She tried to rise but, her ankles thonged together, she fell. She tried to scramble back, but I reached out and took her ankle, and then pulled her where I wanted her, closer, across the stones. "Please, no!" wept Lady Claudia, putting out her hand. I brushed her aside. I then addressed myself to Lady Publia. "Would you car to confess yourself a slave?" I inquired.

  She thrashed about, uttering wild, affirmative whimpers, nodding her head in the hood, vigorously.

  "You recognize my voice, do you not?" I asked.

  Again she nodded. This was the first she would have realized, for certain, I supposed, that she had come to the height of the wall, to the foot of the impaling mount, on my shoulder, and not on that of the executioner. Hope would be springing up wildly within her, for the executioner not knowing who she was, and thinking she was the Lady Claudia, would presumably have simple put her on the spear and went about his business, probably, pulling off his mask, to some post on the wall. I, on the other hand, she knew, knew well who she was. Too, my word must have given her some hope that she might have, at my hands, at least some slim chance for life, albeit that it might have to be purchased at so alarming a cost as consigning herself by her own words to a fate no less than the degradation and categoricality of uncompromising Gorean bondage.

  Lady Claudia put out her head and touched me on the shoulder, gratefully. I pulled Lady Publia to her knees.

  "Are you a slave?" I asked.

  She nodded, vigorously. Lady Claudia clapped her hands with delight, she herself no better. "Do you beg permission," I asked, "to legalize the matter, to speak appropriate words of self-enslavement?"

  She nodded, vigorously, again.

  I then loosened the hood and pushed it up, about her head and forehead. I had not remembered she was so beautiful. I then loosened the two ties of the gag and pulled the wadding out from her mouth, letting it hang over the loosened cords, putting the whole by her throat. She looked at me, wildly, gratefully.

  "Speak," I said.

  "I am a slave!" she said.

  "She is a slave!" said Lady Claudia softly.

  The prisoner shrank back, frightened, shuddering, helpless, thrilled, now knowing herself a slave.

  "You are now a slave, Publia," said Lady Claudia, wonderingly.

  "She is not longer Publia," I said to Lady Claudia. "She had not yet been named."

  The slave looked at me, in awe.

  Then she cried out, suddenly, as I replaced the wadding in her mouth, tightening it in again, with the cords.

  "What are you doing?" asked Lady Claudia, frightened.

  I saw the slave's eyes regarding me, wildly, just before I drew the hood again, over her beautiful features, securing it in place, tying the cord at the back of her neck.

  "What are you doing?" cried Lady Claudia.

  "She has got us this far," I said. "This is as far as we could expect to get with her, unchallenged, she in her guise as you. She had done as much for us as she can. She had thus served her purposes."

  "What do you mean?" whispered Lady Claudia.

  I reached for the impaling spear.

  "No," said Lady Claudia.

  I pressed the point of the spear against the interior of the slave's thigh. She threw back her head, and moaned.

  "You knew she would declare herself a slave!" said Lady Claudia.

  "She is a slave," I said. "It is fitting."

  "I am no less a slave than she!" said Lady Claudia. "That is true," I said.

  "And now," she cried, "that you have won from her her confession that she was slave, and she has said the words themselves, enacting imbondment upon herself, you would put her, now, not even in the dignity of the free woman, but in the misery and degradation of a shamed slave, upon the spear!"

  "Do you not think this slave, when she was a free woman," I asked, "would not have enjoyed seeing you on the spear?"

  "No matter!" cried Lady Claudia. "No matter!"

  "Those of Ar's Station," I said, "will expect to see her on the spear. If she is not there, I do not think we will get very far. When we leave the platform here, let them think our work has been done. Then we will draw away somewhere, I removing this mask, you retaining your rags and veil."

  "No!" said Lady Claudia.

  "It may be our only hope at escape," I said, "you falling to Cosians, I perhaps managing to mingle with them."

  "You are a brave man," she said. "I admire you. You have been strong with me. You have been kind to me. You have risked much for me. I want to escape. I see your reasoning. But if there must be a body on the spear, let it be mine. It is I who am guilty of treason, not she. Thus, it is I who should be impaled, not she."

  "But you are a free woman," I said. "She is only a slave."

  "You know, truly," she said, "she is no more, if as much, a slave as I. Surely in the cell, often enough, I gave you ample evidence that my fitting destiny was to give my entire being to the selfless love and service of a man!"

  "You pity her because you are yourself no better than a slave," I said. "I would pity her if she were a free woman," she said, "and I pity her now, that she is a slave."

  "Because you, yourself, are a slave," I said.

  "Perhaps," she wept. "I do not know."

  Within the hood, I smiled. Slaves, as is well known, are on the whole far more loving and compassionate than free women. That is probably because they are so much more female then the free woman.

  "We must hang her on the spear," I said, jocularly. Suddenly Lady Claudia flung her body across that of the slave, as though she would protect her from me. It was a touching gesture, I thought. To be sure, it was a little silly. I could fling her a dozen feet away at my will, or, if I wished, with a judicious blow, little more than a quick tap on the diaphragm, have her instantly on her back helpless, gasping for breath. If necessary, I could bind her, or, if I wished, in an instant, strike her senseless.

  "You would protect her, wouldn't you?" I asked.

  "Yes!" she wept.

  "She is perhaps your worst enemy," I reminded her.

  "It does not matter," she wept.

  "You have incredibly deep feelings and emotions," I said. "You would make a superb slave."

  She looked up at me, puzzled. Her veil was wet with tears.

  "Well, we had better hang this slave on the spear," I said, removing my sword belt.

  "You have been joking," she said, suddenly. "You never intended to put her on the spear!"

  "She is going t
o hang on the spear all right," I said. I then removed the sword from the sheath and thrust the sheath up, between the slave's back and the ropes, and then forced the point of the spear up, high, into the sheath. This did not do the sheath any good, distending it, but then it was not one, I reminded myself, for which I had had to put out my own tarsks. I then buckled the sword belt, making a new hole in the belt with my knife, tightly about the slender waist of the slave, up a bit, so it, too, was hidden behind the thickly coiled ropes. The spear's point was now entered into the sheath, the sheath held in place behind the slave by her ropes, and the slave's body held against the sheath and spear by the rope and belt. She could not slip down the spear because of the spear's insertion in the sheath. In this way, when the spear was placed in the mount, it would appear, I hoped, that the slave had been mounted on the spear. To see that this was not so, I thought one would probably have to be rather close. There is not much blood, incidentally, with the sort of impalement which, I had gathered, they had intended for the prisoner, as the spear itself, in such an impalement, packs the wound.

  "You are sparing her!" breathed Lady Claudia. "Of late," I said, "she has been concerned to be pleasing." The former Lady Publia shuddered, realizing what might as easily have been her fate.

  I then lifted the spear up and inserted it, down, into its mount.

  We heard some cheers from down on the wall, a handful presumably greeting the appearance of the impaling spear, seemingly burdened. Most of the fellows, though, I suspected, had other things on their mind. Behind the slowly approaching towers, partly in their cover, advanced hundreds of men. the towers themselves were now little more than seventy-five yards from the wall. They had now aligned themselves, and the dropping of the bridges, when the towers were in position, would be simultaneous. Surely men should be drawn up from below to help defend the wall. The smaller probes, now, those of the scattered grapnels and single-pole ladders, had ceased. There were dozens of supporting grapnel and ladder crews, however, now approaching between the towers.

  "Wriggle," I commanded the new slave, bound on the spear. "Wriggles well, and deliciously, or I shall set you on the spear properly!"

  She then wriggled, and writhed, helplessly.

  "Could you really put her on the spear?" asked Lady Claudia, softly. "Certainly," I said. It was true.

  We heard laughter from down on the wall, and, I think, even from Cosians below the wall. They, too, had little respect for traitresses.

  Lady Claudia shuddered.

  "Not too much," I cautioned the new slave, "mostly at first, then less. Then hold yourself tense, trying not to move."

  The new slave, hung in the ropes, moaned her acquiescence.

  "What is wrong?" I asked Lady Claudia.

  "It could have been I, truly impaled," she said.

  "But it is not," I said.

  "The ram pounds the gate," she said.

  We could feel the vibrations, even here.

  "Let us leave," I said to Lady Claudia.

  "There is no safety," she said.

  Down on the lower walkway we looked back to the battlements over the gate. It did look as though the former Lady Publia were on the spear.

  The towers were now but thirty yards away. There was no way their discharge, their rushing, armed effluxes could be stayed by the men here.

  "If she is rescued," said Lady Claudia, looking back at the lovely, nude figure, seemingly mounted upon the impaling spear, "doubtless she will deny she is a slave."

  "But even so," I said, "she would still be a slave, and would know it in her heart."

  "Yes," said Lady Claudia.

  The slave cannot free herself. She can be freed only by an owner. The condition of slavery does not require the collar, or the brand, or an anklet, bracelet or ring, or any such overt sign of bondage. Such things, as symbolic as they are, as profoundly meaningful as they are, and as useful as they are for marking properties, identifying masters, and such, are not necessary to slavery. They are, in effect, though their affixing can legally effect imbondment, ultimately, in themselves, tokens of bondage, and are not to be confused with the reality itself. The uncollared slave is not then a free woman but only a slave who is not then in a collar. Similarly a slave is still a slave even if her brand could be made to magically disappear or, if she has been a made a slave in some other way, if she had not yet been branded. Indeed, some masters, somewhat foolishly, I think, dally in the branding of their slaves. Indeed, some, perhaps the most foolish, do not brand them at all. Such girls, however, when they come into the keeping of new masters, usually discover that that oversight is promptly remedied.

  "The slave who lies about her slavery," I said, "is not thereby the less a slave. It is only that she is then a lying slave."

  "I have heard that bondage is difficult to conceal," said Lady Claudia. "That is particularly so," I said, "if one has been a slave for a time. It can be given away in many ways, by the movements of the body, by certain timidities, and deferences, dispositions to kneel, slips of the tongue, and such. Slavers, and others, it is well known, can often pick out a slave from among women all clad in the Robes of Concealment, by simply having her walk, or speak, or by looking in her eyes. She is then disrobed, the brand revealed, and given over for punishment."

  She looked up at me.

  "I spoke of legal bondage, of course," I said. "Perhaps you meant natural bondage, that of the woman who is by nature a slave?"

  She looked down.

  "That," I said, "is independent of the proprieties of legal bondage, of course." "Yes," she whispered.

  "To be sure," I said, "that condition of the natural slave, like that of the legal slave, can be difficult to conceal, particularly under certain stimulus conditions. It need not remain, however, simply a guilty secret locked in the heart of a frustrated, unfulfilled free woman, not yet in the keeping of her master. It can be shown by such things as her profound psychological dispositions to selflessly serve and love, her desire for, and response to, male domination, her understandings of chains and the whip, the quickening, deepening and intensification of her sexuality under conditions of bondage, her happiness and fulfillment when she finds herself placed in her proper relationship to the male, her joy in fulfilling her biological role, her joy in obedience, submission and love, her elation in knowing herself owned and mastered, subdued and conquered, a condition manifested in acts as disparate, and yet strangely akin, as the tying of her master's sandals and slave writhings in the furs, being forced to thrash helplessly in the orgasmic ecstasies he chooses to impose upon her."

  She trembled.

  "There are women who understand such things," I said.

  "All women understand such things," she said.

  "Perhaps," I said. "I do not know."

  Again she trembled.

  "But we were speaking of the former Lady Publia," I said. "She now knows herself a slave, having said the words. Too, she knows that she, a slave, can be freed only by a master. What will she make of these things? That, I take it, is your question?"

  "Doubtless she would pretend she had never said the words," she said. "That she would, in one way or another, attempt to conceal her true condition?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "Perhaps," I said. "But, of course, she would still, in her heart, know the truth, that she was a slave."

  "Yes," she said.

  "And that only a master could free her?"

  "Yes," she said.

  "Surely it might be difficult to live with such a hidden truth," I said. Perhaps it, irrepressible, insistent within her, might finally require some resolution. She must then take action. She might turn herself over to a praetor, hoping for mercy, as she had surrendered herself. Or perhaps she might solicit some person to make active claim upon her, such a claim, after certain intervals, superseding prior claims. Although there are various legal qualifications involved, which vary from city to city, effective, or active, possession is generally regarded as crucial from the point of
view of the law, such possession being taken, no other claims forthcoming within a specified interval, as conferring legal title. This is the case with a kailla or a tarsk, and it is also the case with a slave. In such a case, presumably the woman would expect the master who has then put claim on her to free her. That would presumably be the point of the matter. Otherwise she could simply submit herself to him as an escaped or strayed slave. Thus, in this fashion, she could reveal her hidden truth, thereby alleviating her acute mental conflicts, and her sufferings, attendant upon its concealment, and by another, as she has no legal power in the matter herself, be restored to freedom. To be sure, there are risks involved in this sort of thing. For example, when she kneels before him, his slave, perhaps he will then simply order her to the kitchen or to his furs. No promise made to her has legal standing, no more than to a tarsk. In this way, she, ostensibly seeking her freedom, may find herself plunged instead into explicit and inescapable bondage, and will doubtless, too, soon find herself properly marked and collared, to preclude the possible repetition of any such nonsense in the future.

  "Yes," whispered Lady Claudia, not taking her eyes off the small figure suspended on the spear, on the battlements over the gate. I looked over the wall. The towers had now stopped, aligned, some twenty yards or so from the wall. They would overtop it. When they advanced, they would do so, together.

  "You had best go now," I said.

  "I do not want to leave you," she said.

  "When the towers spill their troops onto the wall," I said, "I do not thing they will be stopping to make slaves. Go, hide. Perhaps later, when the citadel is burning, when resistance is ended, when the blood lust has to some extent lessened, you may receive an opportunity to strip yourself for captors." "What of her?" she asked, pointing to the former Lady Publia.

  "The slave?" I asked.