by John Norman
"I am," said he. "I expect that you will make coins for Barus and myself."
"Master?" I asked.
"Can you fight?" he asked.
"No," I said.
He laughed. "You are a big fellow," he said, "and strong. Too, you seem fast. Too, you are clearly intelligent. That is important, more important than many fools understand."
"I do not know how to fight," I said. I was very conscious of the binding fiber confining my wrists behind my back.
"Tighten your belly," he said.
I did so. He then, as I anticipated, struck me, heavily, in the gut. I was, of course, in good condition, and set for the blow.
"Good," said Kenneth.
"I do not know how to fight," I told him.
"In the stables," said Kenneth, "authority is mine. You will, for all practical purposes, belong to me. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master," I said.
"Do you wish to live?" he asked.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"You will then do as you're told," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said.
"In the stables," he said, "we have, too, besides the male slaves, some Kajirae, stable sluts, as we call them. I can assign these as I please."
I looked at him. I thought of Gorean Kajirae. I inadvertently licked my lips.
He laughed, and turned about, leading the way about the corner of the house, treading upon the wagon way.
"Come along, Stable Slave," he said.
"Yes, Master," I said, following him.
The line of kneeling, male stable slaves was straight. I knelt near the end of that line. The Mistress, not hurrying, continued her inspection. Kenneth and Barus followed her. Occasionally she stopped to speak to a slave, sometimes to put him under questions, pertaining to his duties and his discharging of them. She could be quite thorough, my mistress, the lofty Lady Florence of Vonda.
Many of the slaves feared her, her demands and her quirt. She held over them, of course, the power of life and death. She was only a few slaves from me now. It had rained the night before, and the ground was soft. She wore a full, beige skirt, the hem of which fell to within some six inches of the ground, and slim, high, black-leather boots; a beige blouse, and a beige jacket, belted, which fell to her thighs; too, she wore a loose hood, attached to the jacket by hooks, of matching beige material, and an opaque veil, also of beige material. Such garments, far less formal than the common attire of the Gorean free woman, are sometimes worn by rich women in the supervision and inspection of certain sorts of holdings, such as orchards, fields, ranches and vineyards. They constitute, for such women, so to speak, a habit for work.
The mistress was now but five slaves from me.
The skirt's hem, some six inches from the ground, protects the skirt from being soiled by water or mud. Doubtless that is the principal reason for its height. Also, however, interestingly, it functions as a slave control device. The sight of the Mistress' ankle, of course, even booted, is tantalizing; it is exciting and provocative. The male slave, thus, if he is vital, finds himself powerfully drawn to look upon it. On the other hand he knows that such an act can be punished by death. Thus, when he is in the presence of his Mistress, she in such a habit, he becomes fearful and ill at ease. She, in effect, flaunts herself in front of him, acting however as though no such thing is going on. She knows that he is in misery. She exploits this in her control of him.
The Mistress was now some four slaves from me. I was the thirty-fifth in a long line of male slaves, some forty-two in length. We knelt, in brief brown tunics, in the soft earth.
The sunlight was bright; the air was Gorean in its exuberance and freshness. The homely smells of the stable yard and the barns, with their straw-filled stalls, are not really objectionable, when one grows used to them. The odors are distinctive but, when one grows accustomed to them, familiar and not really unpleasant. I rather liked the odors of the stables and barns, such complex mixed odors, ranging from straw, and hay and leather, to the organic wastes of our huge charges, some four species of draft tharlarion.
We did not, in the great stables, raise saddle tharlarion, though in the house stables, here in the Mistress' villa, some forty pasangs southwest of Vonda, there were several saddle tharlarion. The Mistress did not breed and raise racing tharlarion, incidentally. These are usually larger and more agile beasts than common saddle tharlarion and are smaller, of course, than either draft tharlarion or war tharlarion, the latter used almost exclusively in the tharlarion cavalries of Gor, huge, upright beasts, several tons in weight, guided by voice commands and the blows of spears.
The Lady Melpomene of Vonda, incidentally, I had heard, for such stories reach even the stables, had fared badly in the tharlarion races in Venna. I recalled that she had hoped to recoup her lost fortunes in such races. Apparently she had failed to do so. As the story went, and my own knowledge, as far as it went, corroborated the story, she had wagered what were, in effect, her last serious financial resources, the proceeds garnered from the sale of her house in Venna, on the outcomes of certain tharlarion races. She had thought herself, in virtue of the possession of significant and secret information, assured of certain winners in these races.
Unfortunately for her, this information, as I suspect is often the case in such matters, proved unreliable. Her wagers had, at any rate, proved uniformly disastrous. She had become a ruined woman. She had had to flee from Venna under the cover of darkness, that she not be delivered to the mercies of her creditors. Such creditors often come for a woman with a collar and chain. She resided now in Vonda, in a tiny, dingy holding, where she, as a citizeness of that city, would have, at least against foreign creditors, the protection of its Home Stone.
The Lady Melpomene of Vonda, impoverished, ruined, had little now to pride herself on save the name of her family and the splendor of her lineage. The Lady Florence, though she must have been aware of these things, never, it was said, at home or abroad, mentioned the name of the Lady Melpomene. She had, perhaps, forgotten about her.
The Mistress was still some four slaves from me. She was sharply questioning one of my fellow slaves. Stammering and cringing, he was trying to satisfy her. I observed the Mistress' ankles, which, below the swirling hem of the beige skirt, were well turned in the high, slim boots. A slaver, of course, would remove such boots before shackling her. I saw Kenneth, behind her, grinning at me. I decided I had best look away from the Mistress.
We had worked hard, the last two days, preparing the stables and the animals for the inspection of the Mistress. I did not know if she would find fault or not, but, to me, objectively, it seemed the holding was in splendid condition. Kenneth, who had held an earlier inspection, had been satisfied, and he was, I suspected, harder to please than would be the Mistress. Indeed, it was a bit unusual that the Mistress conducted her own inspections. Too, it seems she was spending longer with the slaves than one would normally expect. This sudden, exacting concern with the details of the operation of the great stables was unusual for her. She was Mistress, of course, and might do as she wished.
"Do you wish to be whipped, with the snake?" she asked a fellow down the line from me.
"No, Mistress," he said, swiftly.
"Then do your work well, Slave," she said.
"Yes, Mistress," he stammered.
I considered again the polished, black leather of her trim, high boots. A free woman, of course, if she owns slaves, does not polish her own boots. That would be done by one of the house slaves. I suspected that it was Taphris, short-legged and luscious, who polished her boots.
I saw a frown on the face of Kenneth. I then looked away from the Mistress.
I smiled to myself. Kenneth did not wish me to be torn to pieces between tharlarion, driven in opposite directions.
I no longer wore the collar of the silk slave. I now wore, like other stable slaves, a common work collar, of black iron, with an attached ring. On it was the legend 'I belong to the Lady Florence of Vonda'. I, like ot
her stable slaves, was chained at night.
The Lady Florence was now two slaves from me.
Besides the line of forty-two male stable slaves, with which my Mistress was now concerning herself, there knelt to one side, backs straight and heads up, a line of five Kajirae, who were stable sluts. These were barefoot and bare-armed, and wore brown tunics which, as they now had them belted, with binding fiber, would have fallen to their knees, rather demurely for slave girls, had they stood up. There were two blonds and three brunets. All were Gorean wenches. On the throat of each, though much more slender and graceful than those of the males, was a collar, too, a work collar, of black iron, with an attached ring. I relished the sight of them.
"Slave!" snapped Kenneth.
"Yes, Master," I said, quickly, startled.
The Mistress, her eyes angry, stood before me. She slapped the quirt in the palm of her left hand. She was not pleased that I had not noticed when she had moved before me.
I knelt very straight. I stared ahead, inspected. I could see the hint of her sweet thighs beneath the beige skirt. Lifting my eyes I recalled the latitudes of her white belly, now concealed beneath her skirt, and blouse and jacket; I saw the loveliness of her breasts swelling within the blouse and jacket. I remembered the slender softness of her body and shoulders, the beauty of her throat, and face and hair, now muchly concealed by the jacket, and hood and veil. I inspected her. Her lineaments, for I had once been her silk slave, were not unfamiliar to me.
Above the veil, briefly, I saw her eyes flash in anger. But then she controlled herself. She would say nothing. How could she, in such a situation, call attention to the fact that she had been inspected, and as a woman, by one who was a mere slave?
"Is this not a new slave in the stables?" she asked Kenneth.
"Yes, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, "but, still, he has been with us now for some five weeks."
"What is his name?" she asked.
"Jason," said Kenneth.
"He seems familiar," she said, lightly.
"Perhaps you remember him, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "He was once your silk slave."
"Ah!" she said, as though suddenly recollecting the matter. "Is it truly you, Jason?" she asked.
"Yes, Mistress," I said.
She stepped back two or three feet, and looked upon me. "What a sturdy brute you have become," she said.
I said nothing.
"Your face and features," she said, "seem to have coarsened. And there is a scar on your lower left cheek."
I said nothing. I had had the scar from a cut received some four weeks ago. I had been careless.
"I have, inadvertently, from time to time, overheard the speakings of slaves," she said. "Is it true that you are the champion in the stables?"
I smiled to myself. Her informant in such matters was Taphris. Kenneth had told me this.
"Is it true?" she asked.
I considered the line of men. "Yes, Mistress," I said.
"He is splendid, Lady Florence," said Kenneth, warmly. "He is a true champion. He has beaten already the champions of five stables, those of Kliomenes, Policrates, Gordon, Dorto and Miles."
"I abhor violence," she said, shuddering, the quirt in her hand.
"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "Forgive me. They are, of course, only slaves who are set at one another."
"That is true," she said. "It is not as though they were people. They are only animals."
It was true. Slaves, both male and female, are animals. Anything may be done with them.
"When he does well, or is successful," she asked, as though merely curious, "is he rewarded?"
"Yes," said Kenneth, "it is useful in the training."
"And how is he rewarded?" she asked.
"An extra round of rations," said Kenneth, expansively, "some pastry upon occasion, sometimes with even a bowl of cheap wine."
"I see," she said.
I looked over at the line of stable sluts, kneeling in the soft earth, in their brown tunics. I had had all of them, and more than once. Kenneth had been generous. Not unoften he would bring one of them to my stall at night, where I was chained, and chain her by the neck, beside me in the straw. My favorite was the blond, Telitsia.
"And is he, upon occasion," asked the Lady Florence, "rewarded with things of another sort?"
"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.
"With what?" she asked.
"With meaningless little things, trivialities, baubles, things of no account or worth," said Kenneth.
The Lady Florence looked over to the line of kneeling Kajirae. "To be sure," she said, acidly.
"If Lady Florence disapproves," said Kenneth, "we shall, of course, discontinue the practice."
"Why should I disapprove?" she asked, angrily.
"I do not know, Lady Florence," said Kenneth. "I only thought--"
"The sluts are on their slave wine, are they not?" she asked.
"Of course," said Kenneth.
"In what else could I possibly have been interested?" she asked.
"I do not know," he said.
"If there is to be breeding done upon them, I will, of course, supervise it," she said.
"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.
Slaves are domestic stock. They are bred if and when, and as, the masters please.
"How strong your arms seem to have become," mused the Lady Florence, looking down upon me. Like the other slave tunics, mine was sleeveless.
I said nothing.
"It is nothing whatsoever to me," said the Lady Florence to Kenneth, "whether this slave, a mere slave, is or is not used in the stable bouts. See, however, that he performs his full share of labors."
"Of course, Lady Florence," said Kenneth.
The Mistress then turned from me, and surveyed the next slave in line. She stayed before him, however, only a moment. And, indeed, she was soon finished with our line of slaves. She turned about.
"Does the Lady Florence wish to inspect her Kajirae?" inquired Kenneth.
The body of the Mistress suddenly stiffened. "Yes," she said.
Then, in a moment, in her swirling skirt, and hood and veil, and boots, quirt in hand, she stood before the five Kajirae, members of her own sex, briefly tunicked, wearing feminine work collars, with rings, who knelt before her.
"Which of these," she asked, "is the favorite of the fighting slave, he named Jason?"
"Telitsia, this one," said Kenneth, puzzled.
Blond Telitsia looked up at her Mistress, frightened.
"Sell her," said the Lady Florence, and turned away.
Chapter 19 – TAPHRIS
The training beam, about a foot Gorean square, sunk a yard deep in its wood-lined well, braced, too, within the wooden-floored, high-roofed barn, shook with the blows struck against it. On my hands I wore the gunni, training devices, curved weights of lead, several pounds heavy, with handles, cushioned with cloth. The value of these devices is twofold. First, they strengthen the muscles of the shoulders, back and arms, building up incredible strength; second, when they are removed, it seems as though the hands, relieved of such weights, can fly like hornets.
I stayed close to the beam. The fist moves most swiftly and has the greatest power within the first six inches of its motion, with the back and arm behind it. Too, it is similar to the loosened arrow, which has its greatest swiftness, and maximum striking power, immediately after being sprung from the string, immediately after leaving the bow.
The concave surfaces of the gunni face the user of the devices, and the handles are recessed within these surfaces. The outer surfaces, or striking surfaces of the gunni are usually shallowly rounded, being slightly convex. This tends to prevent excessive splintering of the beam. The blows thus, in a sense, compress and pack the beam, causing it to last longer, until it finally, after a few finishing blows, shatters. These beams are frequently replaced. It may seem surprising but a strong man, determined, and working against time, can break through a training beam
in a matter of only a few Ehn. The gunni, in weight, are similar to the heads of sledge hammers. One may, of course, break through walls with such devices or bend iron.
I struck at the beam, denting it, causing it to shudder in its well and braces.
It had been yesterday that we had been inspected by the Mistress. After she had inspected me, it had seemed to me that she had brought her inspection to a rather swift termination. She had been cursory with the rest of the slaves in my line and she had barely glanced at the Kajirae.
I struck again and again at the beam. It is important to maintain one's balance. This permits maneuverability and reduces the opponent's opportunities to take advantage of a misstep or a momentary clumsiness in the distribution of one's weight; too, it provides greater impact for the blows which one strikes.
My feet seldom moved more than some twenty inches apart; earlier in my training my ankles had been shackled; now, kinesthetically, habitually, without thinking, I tended almost invariably to maintain a sensible measure between my feet; I stayed, too, generally on my toes; this reduces friction and enables quickness of movement; too, in the fighting pit, the toe, gouging into the sand, the body moving forward, increases leverage.
Many slave fights are little more than bloody brawls, which free persons are pleased to witness. Kenneth and Barus, on the her hand, who bet on such matters, took these fights seriously. They had, over the years, devoted time and intelligence to the training and development of fighting slaves. The stables of the Lady Florence of Vonda had been, as a result of this, particularly in the last four or five years, unusually successful in the stable bouts. Indeed, Kenneth and Barus had accumulated small fortunes as a result of their efforts in this area. Gorean free persons of high caste, of course, tended to take little note of these matters.
I struck again and again at the beam, pummeling it. It groaned. I heard it crack. Again and again, over and over, I struck at it. The ceiling of the high-roofed barn and its walls rang with the sound of the blows on the weakening wood. I sensed that it would soon give way. I increased the number and speed of my blows.
Sometimes as often as every fourth or fifth day I was hooded and chained, and placed in a wagon, usually with some fellow slaves, fighters, too. I would then be unchained and unhooded, in my turn, in a shallow pit, about which free persons, almost always of low caste, would be gathered.