by John Norman
The garment was placed upon me. The hood fell at my back. The garment was sleeveless.
"Place your hands behind your back and cross your wrists," said Ena.
She had, in her hand, an eighteen-inch strip of purple binding fiber, about half an inch in width, flat, set with jewels.
I felt my wrists lashed behind my back.
Ena then gestured to the girl with the small, ornate bottle. The girl removed the stopper and, quickly, again, touched me with the scent, behind each ear, a tiny drop on her finger. I smelled the heady perfume. My heart was beating rapidly.
Then Ena again approached me. This time she carried, coiled in her hand, some seven or eight feet of slender, coarse rope, simple camp rope. She knotted one end of this about my neck, tightly enough that I felt the knot. My wrists would be bound by jeweled binding fiber but I would be led forth on a simple camp rope.
"You are very lovely," said Ena.
"A lovely animal!" I cried, tethered.
"Yes," said Ena, "a lovely, lovely animal."
I looked at her with horror.
But then I realized that Elinor Brinton was indeed an animal, for she was a slave.
It was thus not inappropriate that she should find herself so, as she was, tethered, about her neck, knotted, a simple length of camp rope, slender and coarse, fit for leading verr or girls.
I turned my head to one side.
Ena drew the hood up from my back and over my head.
"They are ready!" said the girl at the entrance to the tent.
"Lead her forth," said Ena.
I was led through the camp, and, here and there, some men and slave girls followed me.
I came to a clearing, before the tent of Rask of Treve. He was waiting there. On my tether I was led before him. I looked at him, frightened.
We stood facing one another, I about five feet from him.
"Remove her tether," he said.
Ena, who had accompanied me, unknotted the rope, and handed it to one of the girls.
I wore the long, scarlet garment, hooded, sleeveless. My hands were bound behind my back with binding fiber.
"Remove her bonds," said Rask of Treve.
In his belt I saw that he had thrust an eighteen-inch strip of black leather, binding leather; it was not jeweled; it was common leather; it was about three quarters of an inch in width; it was supple, that it might well encircle limbs; it was flat, that it might well fit against them; it was of a sort commonly used by tarnsmen for binding female prisoners.
Ena untied my wrists.
Rask and I regarded one another.
He approached me.
With one hand he brushed back my hood, revealing my head and hair. I stood very straight.
Carefully, one by one, he removed the four pins, handing them to one of the girls at the side.
My hair fell about my shoulders, and he smoothed it over my back.
One of the girls, she with the purple horn comb, combed the hair, arranging it.
"She is pretty," said one of the girls in the crowd.
Rask of Treve now stood some ten feet from me. He regarded me.
"Remove her garment," he said.
Ena and one of the girls from the tent parted the garment and let it fall about my ankles.
Two or three of the girls in the crowd breathed their pleasure.
Some of the warriors smote their shields with the blades of their spears.
"Step before me, naked," said Rask of Treve.
I did so.
We faced one another, not speaking, he with his blade, and in his leather, I with nothing, stripped at his command.
"Submit," he said.
I could not disobey him.
I fell to my knees before him, resting back on my heels, extending my arms to him, wrists crossed, as though for binding, my head lowered, between my arms.
I spoke in a clear voice. "I, Miss Elinor Brinton, of New York City, to the Warrior, Rask, of the High City of Treve, herewith submit myself as a slave girl. At his hands I accept my life and my name, declaring myself his to do with as he pleases."
Suddenly I felt my wrists lashed swiftly, rudely, together. I drew back my wrists in fear. They were already bound! They were bound with incredible tightness. I had been bound by a tarnsman.
I looked up at him in fear. I saw him take an object from a warrior at his side. It was an opened, steel slave collar.
He held it before me.
"Read the collar," said Rask of Treve.
"I cannot," I whispered. "I cannot read."
"She is illiterate," said Ena.
"Ignorant barbarian!" I heard more than one girl laugh.
I felt so ashamed. I regarded the engraving on the collar, tiny, in neat, cursive script. I could not read it.
"Read it to her," said Rask of Treve to Ena.
"It says," said Ena, "—I am the property of Rask of Treve."
I said nothing.
"Do you understand?" asked Ena.
"Yes," I said. "Yes!"
Now, with his two hands, he held the collar about my neck, but he did not yet close it. I was looking up at him. My throat was encircled by the collar, he holding it, but the collar was not yet shut. My eyes met his. His eyes were fierce, amused, mine were frightened. My eyes pleaded for mercy. I would receive none. The collar snapped shut. There was a shout of pleasure from the men and girls about. I heard hands striking the left shoulder in Gorean applause. Among the warriors, the flat of sword blades and the blades of spears rang on shields. I closed my eyes, shuddering.
I opened my eyes. I could not hold up my head. I saw before me the dirt, and the sandals of Rask of Treve.
Then I remembered that I must speak one more line. I lifted my head, tears in my eyes.
"I am yours, Master," I said.
He lifted me to my feet, one hand on each of my arms. My wrists were bound before my body. I wore his collar. He put his head to the left side of my face, and then to the right. He inhaled the perfume. Then he stood there, holding me. I looked up at him. Inadvertently my lips parted and I, standing on my toes, lifted my head, that I might delicately touch with my lips those of my master. But he did not bend to meet my lips. His arms held me from him.
"Put her in a work tunic," he said, "and send her to the shed."
15
My Master Will Have His Girl Please Him
"Ute!" I cried.
The guard, by the hair, threw me to her feet. I looked up at her with horror. The left side of her forehead was still discolored where I had struck her with a rock.
"I thought—" I whispered.
She stood before the long, low shed, which I had seen before, when I had examined the camp. It was windowless, and formed of heavy logs. It had a heavy plank door, which was now open. When I had seen it before, it had been locked by two hasps and staples, secured by two heavy padlocks. A lovely girl, in brief work tunic, emerged, and went about the camp. I had supposed it a storage shed. I now realized it was a dormitory for female work slaves. And I realized, to my horror, that I would be such a slave.
"You wear a collar," said Ute.
"Yes," I whispered, kneeling before her, my head down. I had seen that she, too, wore a collar. More importantly, about her forehead, tying back her dark hair, was a strip of rep cloth, brown, of the same material as the work tunic. I knew this meant that she had authority among the girls. Ena was high girl in the camp, but I suspected that Ute might be first among the work slaves. I began to shake.
"She is frightened," said the guard. "Does she know you?"
"She is known to me," said Ute.
I put my head down to the dirt before her. My wrists were still bound, fastened by the leather knots of the tarnsman, Rask of Treve. I was still unclothed. I wore only my bonds and, locked about my throat, a collar of steel.
"You may leave us," said Ute to the guard. "You have delivered the slave. She is now in my charge."
The guard turned and left.
I dared not
look up. I was terrified.
"On the first day of my capture, at the first camp of my captors," said Ute, "I fell to Rask of Treve." She paused. "Suddenly, from the darkness, he stood before them. 'Yield to me the female slave,' he said. They would choose to fight. 'I am Rask of Treve,' he said. They then did not choose to draw their blades. With their own tarn goads, Rask of Treve then drove their tarns from their camp. He then lifted me, bound, in his arms, and backed from the camp. 'I thank you for the female slave,' he said. And one of them said to him, 'And we thank you, Rask of Treve, for our lives.' Their journey back to the camp of Haakon of Skjern, afoot, will be long. Rask of Treve then brought me to his camp, where he made me his slave."
I looked up at Ute. "You wear the Kajira talmit," I said.
"The first girl of the work slaves," said Ute, "had been sold shortly before my capture. There had been dissensions, factions, among the girls, each wanting one of their own party to be first girl. I was new. I had no allegiances. Rask of Treve, by his will, and because, for some reason, he trusted me, set me above them all."
"Am I to be a work slave?" I asked.
"Did you expect to be sent to the tent of the women?" asked Ute.
"Yes," I said. I had indeed expected to live in the tent of the women, not in a dark shed, among work girls.
Ute laughed. "You are a work slave," she said.
I put my head down.
"You were captured, I understand," said Ute, "southwest of the village of Rorus."
I did not speak.
"Accordingly," said Ute, "you were still seeking my village of Rarir."
"No!" I cried.
"From whence," said Ute, "you would have sought the island of Teletus."
"No, no!" I cried.
"And on that island," she said, "you would have presented yourself to my foster parents, as my friend."
I shook my head in terror.
"Perhaps they might even have adopted you, in my place, as their daughter," suggested Ute.
"Oh, no, Ute!" I cried. "No! No!"
"Your life would then have been quite easy, and pleasant," said Ute.
I put my head down, in terror, to her feet.
By the hair, Ute, bending over me, yanked my head painfully up. "Who betrayed Ute?" she demanded.
I shook my head.
Ute's fists were excruciating in my hair.
"Who?" she demanded.
I could not speak, so terrified I was.
She shook my head viciously.
"Who!" she demanded.
"I did," I cried. "I did!"
"Speak as a slave!" demanded Ute.
"El-in-or betrayed Ute!" I cried. "El-in-or betrayed Ute!"
"Worthless slave," I heard a voice behind me say.
I turned, as well as I could, and saw, to my dismay, Rask of Treve. I closed my eyes, sobbing.
"It is as you said," said Rask of Treve, to Ute, "she is worthless."
Ute removed her hands from my hair, and I put my head down.
"She is a liar, and a thief, and a traitress," said Rask of Treve. "She is utterly worthless."
"Yet," said Ute, "in a camp such as this, we may find uses for such a girl, there are many menial tasks to which she might be well applied."
"See that she is worked well," said Rask of Treve.
"I shall," said Ute, "Master."
Rask of Treve strode from where I knelt, leaving me with Ute.
I looked up at her, tears in my eyes. I shook my head. "You told him?" I whispered.
"He commanded me to speak," said Ute, "and I, as a slave, must needs obey."
I shook my head.
"Your master knows you well, Slave," said Ute, smiling.
I put down my head, sobbing. "No, no."
"Guard!" called Ute.
A guard approached.
"Unbind the slave," said Ute.
I lifted my tightly bound wrists to the guard, and he undid the knots. I still knelt.
"You may now leave us," said Ute to the guard, and he left.
"Am I truly a work slave?" I asked.
"Yes," said Ute.
"Am I under your authority?" I asked.
"Yes," she said.
"Ute!" I cried. "I did not mean to betray you! I was frightened! Forgive me, Ute! I did not mean to betray you!"
"Go into the shed," said Ute. "There will be work for you tonight, in the kitchen shed. Tomorrow will be soon enough for you to eat."
"Please, Ute!" I wept.
"Go into the shed, Slave," said she.
I rose to my feet and, naked, entered the dark shed. Ute closed the door behind me, plunging me into darkness. I heard the hasps cover the staples, one after the other, and then I heard the heavy padlocks snapped shut.
The floor of the shed was dirt, but, here and there, under my feet, I felt a rounded metal bar. I fell to my hands and knees and, with my fingers in the dirt, felt the floor. Under the dirt, an inch or so, and in some places exposed, was a heavy gridwork of bars.
Girls locked within this shed would not tunnel their way to freedom.
There was no escape.
Suddenly, locked within, alone in the darkness, I grew panic-stricken.
I flung myself against the door, pounding on it in the darkness with my fists. Then, sobbing, I slipped to my knees and scratched at it with my fingernails. "Ute!" I sobbed. "Ute!"
Then I crawled to one side of the door and sat down, my knees drawn up under my chin, in the darkness. I was lonely and miserable. I felt the steel collar, so smooth and obdurate, fastened on my throat.
I heard a tiny scurrying, of a tiny brush urt, in the darkness.
I screamed.
Then it was silent, and again I sat alone in the darkness, my knees drawn up under my chin. In the darkness I smelled the scent of the Torian perfume.
* * * *
Ute was not particularly cruel to me, as I had feared she would be.
She treated me justly, as she did the other girls. It might even have been as though it were not I who had betrayed her to the slavers of Haakon of Skjern.
I did much work, but I did not find that I was doing more than the other girls. Ute would not, however, let me shirk. After I had recovered from my fear that she would exact a vengeance on me for betraying her, I found myself, eventually, becoming irritated, somewhat, that she would treat me with no more favoritism than the other girls. After all, we had known one another for many months, and had been together, I recalled, from well before the time when Targo had first crossed the Laurius northward to the compound above the town of Laura. Surely that should have counted for something. It was not as though I were a stranger to her, as surely were the other girls. Yet, in spite of these considerations, I was not treated preferentially! I had some consolation in the fact that certain other girls, who would try to be particularly pleasing to Ute, who would try to insinuate themselves into her favor, were treated with abrupt coldness. She treated us all alike. She kept herself remote from us. She did not even sleep or eat with us, but in the kitchen shed, where she would be chained at night. We respected her. We feared her. We did what she told us. Behind her lay the power of the men. Yet we did not much like her, for she was our superior. We were pleased that she treated others with justice, not giving them advantages and privileges over ours, but we were angry that the same justice was meted out, in turn, to us. We were not given advantages and privileges over them! Surely I, at least, should have received some consideration, for I had known Ute for many months, and we had been friends. Yet she treated me no differently than the other girls, scarcely recognizing me in my work tunic among the others.
When I could, of course, I managed to avoid tasks, or perform them in a hasty, slipshod manner, that I might save myself inconvenience and labor. Ute could not watch all the time. Once, however, she caught me, with a greasy pan, which I had not well scrubbed, but had returned, not clean, to the kitchen shed. "Bring the pan," said Ute. I followed her, and we walked through the camp. We stopped by the framewo
rk of poles, which I had seen before. There was the horizontal pole, itself set on two pairs of poles, leaning together and lashed at the top. I had thought, when first I had seen it, that it was a pole for hanging meat. The horizontal pole was about nine feet high. Beneath its center, on the ground, there was an iron ring. This ring was set in a heavy stone, which was buried in the ground.
I stood there, beneath the pole, by Ute's side. I held the greasy pan.
"The girl's wrists," said Ute, "are tied together, and then she is tied, suspended by the wrists, from the high pole. Her ankles are tied together and tied, some six inches from the ground, to the iron ring. That way she does not much swing."
I looked at her, holding the pan.
"This is a whipping pole," said Ute. "You may go now, El-in-or."
I turned and fled back to the kitchen shed, to clean the pan. After that I seldom shirked my work, and I made, generally, much effort to do my work well.
It only occurred to me later that Ute had not had me whipped.
Often during the day, and sometimes for days at a time, most of the tarnsmen of Rask of Treve would be aflight. The camp then would seem very quiet.
They were applying themselves to the work of the tarnsmen of Treve, attack, plunder and enslavement.
A girl would cry, "They return!" and we, eager in our work tunics, would run to the center of the camp to greet the returning warriors. Many of the girls would be laughing and waving, leaping up and down, and standing on their tiptoes. I did not betray such emotion, but I, too, found myself eager, almost uncontrollably excited, to witness the return of the warriors. How fine they were, such magnificent males! I hated them, of course, but, too, I, like the others, most eagerly anticipated their return. And most of all was I thrilled to witness the return of their leader, the mighty, laughing Rask of Treve, whose very capture loop I had felt on my own body, whose collar I wore, whose I was. How pleased I was to see him bring back yet another girl, bound across his saddle, a new prize. How skeptically, and eagerly, with the other girls, I would silently appraise her, comparing her, always unfavorably, on some ground or another, with myself. Once Rask of Treve, from the saddle, looked directly at me, finding me among the mere work slaves, in their work tunics. I had felt an indescribable emotion, an utter weakness, when our eyes had met. I put my hand before my mouth. How magnificent he seemed, how mighty among those mighty warriors, he, their fierce leader.