Nothing that she had seen came close to rivalling the chamber in magnificence, yet she set her chin high and walked towards the towering throne of what appeared to be solid gold that stood at the far side of the chamber. In it was seated a man who could only be the Panjandrum of Vendjome, the man who claimed an empire supposedly richer and more populous than any other. He wore a great headpiece of jewelled cloth of gold with an enormous ruby at the centre. His robes were also cloth of gold and swept away from him and down the steps that led up to his throne. If his surroundings and clothes were impressive, the same could not be said for his body. He was small, squat and corpulent, with a round, bloated face red from over-indulgence. Dark, watery eyes looked out with little sign of intelligence, making Elethrine wonder if he was drunk or drugged. At one side of his throne was a beautiful boy, his pale skin and brown hair showing him to be from a Hai from the Glass Coast region of Cypraya. He was naked, his body oiled and smooth skinned. The ruler of Vendjome was stroking the boy’s hair in a gesture of decadent lechery. At his other side stood a stately, dour man, his gaze as alert as his emperor’s was slack.
‘Look at the floor, unworthy chattels!’ Apod hissed furiously.
Elethrine glanced at Talithea, who still had her chin high. Resigning herself to the consequences of her arrogance, Elethrine followed suit, tilting her chin up another degree and noting that Aisla had also refused to look down. A sudden, sharp pain in her thigh told her that one of the eunuch guards to the rear had struck her with his quirt, yet it had been done surreptitiously and she guessed that the eunuch dared not discipline her openly in the audience chamber.
‘Speak only to me,’ Apod said, his voice full of his own importance. ‘I shall speak to the Vizier, who in turn will convey your words to the Presence. At the foot of the steps, kneel and put your faces to the floor.’
Elethrine made no move. To kneel as she had been ordered would be an admission of her place as a slave, and her refusal to admit it was the last bastion of her battered pride. Nor could she show weakness in front of Talithea and Aisla, both of whom had also stayed standing.
‘Kneel!’ the Chief Eunuch hissed.
Elethrine stayed standing and again the quirt lashed out at her leg, a vicious blow aimed at the tender flesh where buttock met thigh. It stung, although the folds of her pyjama pants caught some of the impact. Although taut over the fullest part of her bottom they bagged a little lower down, providing welcome protection from the worst of the eunuch’s malice. Twice more the quirt struck, applied across her bottom and then her thighs, and a muffled squeak from Aisla told her that the others were receiving the same, rather surreptitious beatings.
All three of them stayed standing, and then the Panjandrum looked up and the whipping stopped abruptly, the assistant eunuchs having fallen to their faces on the marble floor. Elethrine look straight forward, directing her gaze a foot above the podgy emperor’s head.
The entire audience chamber had gone quiet, the only sounds the tinkling of the fountains and a nervous titter from a slave girl. Slowly the Panjandrum’s eyes came into focus and swung round to look at them. His face registered puzzlement and some annoyance, not apparently at Talithea’s defiance but at having been disturbed.
‘Who are these?’ he asked the Vizier by his side in a weak voice quavering with lethargy.
‘Barbar slave girls from the northlands,’ the Vizier replied, ‘purchased for the amusement of your Resplendence this very morning. Note the extraordinary colour of their hair and their great height.’
‘Oh yes,’ the Panjandrum mumbled.
‘I am no barbar girl.’ Talithea announced, her voice unnecessarily loud from her apprehension. ‘I am the Princess Talithea, third daughter of King Utharion V, and a free citizen of the kingdom of Mund.’
‘As am I,’ Elethrine added, ‘the Demoiselle Elethrine, only child and heiress to Baron Dakarmoth of Korismund. Likewise my maid is my bondswoman and no slave.’
‘Why do the pale haired barbars shout so?’ the emperor asked wheezily, ignoring them completely and addressing the question to his Vizier. ‘What do they say?’
‘They express awe at your magnificence and wonder at you greatness,’ the Vizier said.
‘Lord Emperor,’ Talithea said. ‘We make appeal to your imperiality. Pray provide us with an honour guard that we may return in safety to our homeland, as my father would surely do should any daughter you might achieve have the ill luck to be thrown helpless upon the coasts of Mund.’
Again the Panjandrum took no notice, only looking at them with an expression of mild curiosity and then turning back to the Vizier. Elethrine waited for his answer, sure that for all his apparent slackness of mind the ruler of the vast Vendjome empire must by definition have a strong sense of honour.
Moments passed, Elethrine’s hope fading slowly to be replaced by further feelings of resentment and frustration at their treatment. She had been sure that if they could only communicate with someone of high status they would be treated as their own rank demanded, yet the more exalted the people they met the worse they seemed to be treated. A glance to her side showed similar emotions in Talithea’s face, only stronger and less controlled.
‘Why do they not kneel?’ the emperor finally asked, somewhat peevishly but slowly, as if the realisation that something was out of place had only just struck him.
‘They have little wit,’ the Vizier answered. ‘Their intelligence is perhaps of a similar level to that of a tame mandrill, a nymph or goblin.’
‘Yes, I see,’ the Panjandrum said slowly, ‘yet beauty and simple-mindedness sit well together.’
‘Deep is your wisdom, O Resplendence,’ the Vizier simpered.
‘I…,’ Elethrine started automatically, then stopped, lost for words at the magnitude of the insults of both Vizier and Emperor.
The emperor said nothing more, but began to study them in a lazy fashion, rather as if admiring statues; statues of a distinctly rude nature. Elethrine felt a blush rise to her cheeks as she realised the quality of his attention, becoming suddenly far more aware of the fact that the pyjamas did little to conceal her breasts, belly and legs from a gaze that was becoming increasingly lecherous. She began to tremble, wondering if he would simply ravish her on the floor, much as Sarak and his tithemen had ravished Talithea and Aisla, with no concern whatever for who was watching or what intimacies were displayed. Although scared, and physically repelled by the squat, flabby figure on the great throne, she was unable to resist a flush of pride at the thought of having her maidenhead taken by an emperor. He had also insulted her, a frequent precursor to ravishment. As a Demoiselle she could fully expect squires, thanes and even higher nobles to want to take her, and she accepted the lust of the lower orders as inevitable, yet an emperor -
‘Have them dance,’ the Panjandrum spoke suddenly, as if reaching a momentous decision.
‘Make them dance,’ the Vizier relayed.
‘Dance,’ Apod instructed.
‘Dance?’ Elethrine queried, taken aback by the sudden and bizarre request.
‘Dance!’ Apod repeated, more sharply.
‘What would you have us dance?’ Talithea asked, her voice showing puzzlement, temper and something of the demented rage she had shown at the slave market. ‘A ten-step? A pavane?’
‘And who would be our partners?’ Elethrine added.
‘The maidens’ dance of spring might be possible, had we some flowers.’ Aisla suggested respectfully.
‘But scarcely appropriate,’ Elethrine replied.
There was an awkward pause, finally broken by the Chief Eunuch.
‘Possibly they are too ignorant to know the dances of lust?’ he suggested to the Vizier.
‘Nonsense, sensual dancing is natural for girls, evens nymphs do it,’ the Vizier replied before turning to the Panjandrum and continuing. ‘O Resplendence, I fear that they are indeed little better than beasts, though beautiful, but perhaps they can be trained to give pleasure in due time.’
The Panjandrum merely gave a snort of doubt and disappointment. Elethrine felt her anger rising from the Vizier’s remarks.
‘But see, o Resplendence,’ the Vizier continued hastily, ‘the bizarre and backward clothes which were found with them.’
As the Vizier spoke a curtain opened to one side and a servant emerged, his outstretched arms laden with their clothing. On the top lay a small tangle of frilled coral-pink silk - Elethrine’s pantalettes. She felt the blushes rising to her cheeks as the Emperor reached out and touched them, feeling the silk between his fingers and then holding them up to inspect them with his rheumy eyes.
‘Most curious,’ he said. ‘How are these worn?’
‘How are they worn?’ the Vizier repeated.
Elethrine said nothing, too ashamed to answer. Her cheeks were burning as her most intimate garment was held up for the inspection of the entire audience chamber.
‘Answer!’ the Vizier demanded.
‘It is not a matter to be discussed in the presence of males,’ Elethrine managed after a pause.
‘They serve to warm the neck and shoulders o Resplendence,’ the Vizier addressed the Panjandrum. ‘The fours holes are for the arms, torso and neck respectively.’
‘Most curious,’ the emperor replied, poking his hand through the hole in the pantalettes that was designed to allow girls to pee in comfort. ‘Have one dressed.’
The next instant Elethrine felt her pyjama pants pulled sharply down, baring her bottom, legs and belly on the instant. She gasped at the sudden exposure, a noise of alarm and shock, despite the fact that the transparent blue gauze had done nothing to conceal her body anyway. Before she could recover herself they had pulled her top up as well, exposing her breasts only to realise that the chains on her wrist shackles prevented her form being conveniently stripped.
‘Not that one,’ the emperor said, ‘the giantess with the flame hair.’
The eunuchs stopped interfering with Elethrine as quickly as they had began. Her top fell back into place, covering her breasts with the minimal modesty of thin blue gauze, but they left her with her pyjama pants in a tangle around her ankles. She felt a new flush of shame, aware that the partial stripping left her bottom cheeks and the furry triangle of her lower belly peeping out from beneath the hem of her pyjama top in a display that was somehow ruder than full nudity. It was impossible to decide which was more undignified, to attempt to pull them up with her wrists chained and give a still more revealing display of her bottom, or to remaining standing with it all showing anyway. For a moment she squirmed in indecision, twice dipping as if to try and get her pyjama pants up, then deciding that Apod was holding the chain lead too tightly and that she would only succeed in assuming a variety of silly, rude postures that would doubtless amuse the onlookers.
Beside her, Aisla had suffered the same undignified fate. Her rich green pyjamas had been pulled down and up, exposing bottom and breasts. A eunuch was fumbling with the key to her wrists chains. Her face was flushed scarlet with blushes and she was making embarrassed little treading motions with her feet which set her breasts and bottom quivering. A eunuch pulled her pyjama pants away from her feet as the wrist cuffs unlocked, another quickly pulling her top away to leave her standing totally naked.
Elethrine felt sympathy at the sight of her maid standing nude for the inspection of the audience, but also pleasure that someone else had been stripped and a curious thrill that was clearly shared with the rest of the onlookers. Aisla’s face and neck were flushed pink, even her rounded breasts having coloured up in her shame. Behind, her hair fell in a cloud of burnished red-gold, the longest strands reaching to the cleft of her muscular little bottom. It was a sight that Elethrine knew would stimulate male passion to an unbearable height, and Elethrine glanced up nervously, half-expecting to find a forest of penes thrusting up from the men’s robes, erect and ready.
She knew that in Mund, had a girl of Aisla’s beauty been put naked in a room full of men, she would have been ravished on the spot. True, it would not have happened among highborn, but nothing in the behaviour of the Vendjomois nobility had led her to expect honourable restraint. Yet, perhaps out of deference to the Emperor, the men of Vendjome were bridling their lust. Their attention was fixed on Aisla’s body, and one or two were fondling convenient slavegirls, but none were approaching or preening erect cocks.
Aisla dressed rapidly, clearly relieved to be covering her body in the familiar garments of Mund. In her hurry she fumbled with the catches and straps, although normally expert in fastening. She also dressed in Elethrine’s clothes, which happened to be on the top of the pile. Finally she was fully dressed, a noblewoman of Mund in every particular save the tell-tale peasant red of her hair.
‘Bizarre,’ the Emperor remarked indifferently. ‘Have them put in my seraglio, I will amuse myself with them later. See to it that they are taught to kneel.’
‘Never!’ Talithea spat as the Vizier relayed the order. ‘I should rather kneel to the most base pariah of Mund! Hoy, you with the body of a toad, how can such a one as you be called Emperor? Either ravish us as would a man or give us to your guards.’
The Panjandrum threw a questioning glance to his Vizier.
‘She begs to leave your presence, for the light of your countenance blinds her, o Resplendence,’ the Vizier said. ‘She also begs to be placed in your seraglio, there to be soundly whipped in order to instil in herself and her companions a true sense of her worthlessness should you ever condescend to use her miserable body.’
‘My miserable body!’ Talithea stormed, turning to address the Vizier. ‘You weasel faced little…’
‘Take them from the Presence,’ the Vizier ordered, ‘whip them well, give them no food until morning and leave them chained in the seraglio.’
They were dragged away, Elethrine tripping over her pyjama bottoms, which then fell off, leaving her quite nude from the waist down. Talithea continued spitting curses until the great doors closed and cut off their view of the throne. Only then did the chief eunuch turn to her with a look of fury.
‘Impudent trull!’ he stormed. ‘How dare you address the Presence! How dare you use such words! You may be fortunate your value is so high, or I would have you fed to the sacred mandrills!’
‘Do it then you sack of lard!’ Talithea yelled back. ‘I’ll show you how a Princess of Mund can die!’
She struck out, hitting his face with the golden cuff at her wrist and drawing a high-pitched scream of pain and surprise. He came forward, his face red with fury and the blood of a long cut that crossed one cheek. One podgy arm came round in an open slap, only to meet Aisla’s hands as Talithea’s nails raked his face. Seizing her chance, Elethrine grabbed his free arm, twisting her chain around it and pulling to find him surprisingly weak for all his bulk. For a moment it seemed as if he would topple to the ground as the three of them pushed him back and then the guards reached them and they were pulled away. Elethrine struggled briefly in the grip of the two guards who held her and then gave up, realising that they were far stronger than the flabby Apod. The other eunuchs fluttered around, neither helping the guards nor seeing to their chief.
‘They have spirit, these barbar girls,’ the largest of the guards remarked as he subdued Aisla in a bear hug.
‘Strong too,’ another answered as he tried to get a grip on Talithea’s frantically waving arms. ‘They would be interesting bed partners!’
‘Careful what you say,’ the leader put in, ‘remember that they are the emperor’s slaves.’
‘I am no slave!’ Talithea spat, kicking out but only succeeding in stubbing a bare toe on the guard’s greave.
Elethrine noticed the great door begin to open, at which both guards and eunuchs came quickly to attention, the three girls dropping to the floor at the suddenness of their release. A small, dumpy man with a bald pate and a fringe of white hair appeared, his brilliant emerald robe and gold-traced sandals in odd contrast to the intense, intellectual expression of his face. Beh
ind him came a taller, younger man wearing a kirtle of the same brilliant green and carrying a spear.
The small man glanced in surprise at the Chief Eunuch, then turned his attention to the guard leader.
‘Serenity Astripod,’ the leader said reverently, bowing while maintaining a firm grip on Elethrine’s chain.
‘What had happened here?’ the little man answered. ‘No, never mind that. Bring these three to my quarters before they go to the seraglio.’
‘But Serenity,’ the leader protested, ‘the Emperor will want them later.’
‘Besides,’ Apod added vindictively as he got to his feet, ‘they are to be whipped, by the Emperor’s own order.’
‘By Vizier Raugnak’s order actually,’ the small man answered. ‘No, I must see them before they go to the seraglio.’
‘But Serenity,’ a junior eunuch put in, ‘they must be whipped, then tattooed, bracletted, washed and perfumed in readiness for the attentions of the Resplendence.’
‘That can wait,’ Astripod responded, ‘besides, I happened to know that the Governor of Sera-Jome arrives later, bringing a boy slave shipped in from the southernmost tip of Cypraya. He is said to have skin as black as jet and as smooth as velvet; features both regular and beautiful. He also dances gracefully and is obedient. It will be days before the Emperor tires of him and wishes to enjoy his barbar girls.’
‘But they must still be whipped at the least,’ Apod protested vehemently. ‘You heard how they dared speak to the Presence!’
‘Very well, I shall whip them myself,’ Astripod answered.
‘But…’ Apod began, only to be cut short by Astripod.
‘Do not forget who I am, eunuch,’ he said coldly. ‘Would you disobey the cousin to the Presence?’
‘No sire, of course not sire, I abase myself your Serenity,’ Apod replied hurriedly, then fell grovelling to the ground.
Talithea laughed, a sound of silvery beauty that Elethrine found disconcerting given their plight.
‘Pig, toad,’ the Princess taunted, kicking Apod with a dainty foot, ‘were my father here he would tear you apart with his bare hands, and your witless, bulbous Emperor too.’
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