Norman, John - Gor 23 - Renegades of Gor.txt

Norman, John - Gor 23 - Renegades of Gor.txt Page 48

by Renegades of Gor [lit]

  “I—I do not understand,” she whispered.

  “Impersonation of a free woman,” he said.

  She did not dare to speak.

  “And, of course,” he said, “there are several associated considerations, such as

  arrogant speech, speaking without permission, and failure to use the proper

  forms of address.”

  She shuddered.

  “You may speak,” he said.

  She lifted her hands toward her collar. “You can see that the only collar I

  wear,” she said, “is a portion of my chaining. You can see that I am not

  branded!”

  “Are you, or are you not, a free woman?” asked Aemilianus. “Speak clearly.”

  She squirmed, kneeling on the deck. She trembled in the chains. She looked from

  one face to another, before her, and at the sides. Wildly she must have been

  considering whether or not there might be any there who had heard her speak the

  self-irreversible words of self-enslavement on the upper battlements. Then,

  kneeling up, again off her heels, she straightened her back, and, I fear, was

  preparing to respond boldly, and negatively, to the question of Aemilianus.

  She lifted her head, she drew in her breath.

  “Consider your answer carefully,” I said to her, from behind her.

  Hearing my voice she suddenly uttered a shriek of misery, flung her hands up in

  the wrist rings, until the chaining impeded their further movements, and jerked

  helplessly in the chains. Then she lowered her hands and wavered. I feared she

  might faint. Then she bent over at the waist and put her head down, and turned

  half about, on her knees. Then, lifting her head a little, she looked up at me.

  I looked down at the slave, my arms folded.

  Then she again, quickly, put her head down.

  She then turned again, on her knees, to face Aemilianus. “I am a slave!” she

  cried, prostrating herself before him, her chained wrists under her thighs.

  “Forgive me, Master! Have mercy on me, Master!”

  She had seen me on the ship, standing there, a free man, among peers. She had

  had some concept, doubtless, of what I had done on the wall, if nowhere else. I

  did not think she was under any delusion as to who would be believed in any

  conflict of testimonies. Too, of course, Lady Claudia, still a free person, who

  could render free testimony, not even extracted under torture, for example, had

  been present. Too, the young crossbowman, though she would not know his

  identity, as she had been hooded, had been there later, when she had, by the

  code of whimpers, acknowledged herself a slave, and before him, and me, had

  performed an enticing, placatory slave behavior. She was surely under no

  delusion, now, as to whether Aemilianus and the others knew the truth. They had

  merely been playing with a slave.

  “It is a serious matter,” said Aemilianus to her, “when a she-tarsk claims not

  to be a she-tarsk.”

  “I did not claim explicitly to be a free woman, Master!” she wept.

  There was laughter from those about. Even Aemilianus smiled. Her entire behavior

  had been calculated to deceive those about as to her status.

  “Please forgive a slave, Master!” she wept. She lifted herself a little,

  timidly.

  (pg.376) There was laughter.

  I had not wanted her to assert, explicitly, in response to the question of

  Aemilianus, concerning her status, that she was a free woman. although she did

  not realize it at the time, she was already then in deep enough difficulties. In

  making clear to her the futility of such a lie, sure to be devastating in its

  consequences, and, indeed, the futility of attempting to prolong her entire

  absurd charade. I had saved her subjection to hideous tortures, and perhaps her

  life. It is a very serious “cause for punishment” on the part of a slave to

  conceal or deny her status. Normally, of course, there is very little danger of

  this sort of thing occurring, as she is usually collared and branded, and,

  usually, is clad in a distinctive manner.

  “Kneel,” said Aemilianus.

  The girls struggled up, in her chains, and then knelt before him. She crossed

  her chained hands over her breasts, covering herself. This was interesting, this

  sudden, poignant touch of frightened modesty, now that she was aware of her

  slave vulnerability.

  Aemilianus’ eyes were upon her. She lowered her hands. He continued to regard

  her. She then knelt back on her heels. Still his gaze did not leave her. She

  then, blushing, opened her knees.

  “How did you become a slave?” he asked. He knew, of course.

  “I confessed my natural slavery,” she said, “and then spoke words of

  self-enslavement.”

  “At which point,” said Aemilianus, “you ceased to be a person, and became a

  property.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “An animal.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said.

  “Do you think it is acceptable for properties, for animals, to pretend to the

  status of persons?”

  “No, Master!” she said.

  “But yet you did so.”

  “Forgive me, Master!” she begged.

  “I have a mind to turn you over to free women,” he said.

  “Please, no, Master!” she wept, terrified.

  “What do you think should be your disposition?’ he asked.

  (pg.377) She looked up, startled. It seemed she thought wildly, excitedly, for a

  moment. But then she put down her head, humbly, fearfully. “Whatever master

  pleases,” she said.

  “It is a suitable answer,” said Aemilianus. I drew a deep breath. That, I

  feared, had been a close one.

  “You are in slave chains,’ observed Aemilianus.

  “It is fitting for me, Master,” she said. “I am a slave.”

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “I have no name,” she said. “I have not yet been named.”

  “You were eager to serve Cosians,” he said.

  “Or any man, Master,” she whispered.

  “You were not pleasing,” he said.’

  “Forgive me, Master!” she said.

  “Put her to one side,” said Aemilianus, “and bring forth the other female.”

  Two men took the former Lady Publia, now an unnamed female slave, by the arms

  and pulled her to one side, where they put her on her on her belly on the deck,

  her chained wrists under her.

  In another moment another figure, also in sirik, was produced. The sturdy collar

  of the sirik, from which the central vertical chain depended, could not be seen

  on her in front, or at the sides, because of her veil. One could see it, of

  course, at the back of her neck, below the white, scarflike turban. Too, of

  course, once could see, in front, the dependent chain, the wrist rings and ankle

  rings, and such. I saw the figure’s eyes, frightened, meet mine as she was drawn

  forth, with small, hurried steps. She was put on her knees before Aemilianus.

  She looked
to one side and saw the former Lady Publia, naked, in sirik, lying on

  her belly, on the deck.

  “Consider,” said Aemilianus, “the exciting costume in which the prisoner appears

  before us, the baring of so much of the arms, the baring of the calves, the

  ankles, the feet, the cling of it, indicating it conceals no undergarments but

  only female, how closely it resembles in may ways that of some simple, humble,

  impoverished, low-caste maid, and yet how cleverly it is contrived to display

  its occupant, and in a fashion calculated to stimulate the capture appetites of

  vigorous men, men accustomed to look upon females as slaves and loot, as prizes

  and pleasures.”

  (pg.378) There was assent to this. I am sure that more than one man there wished

  to tear those taunting rags from the beauty they bedecked.

  The former Lady Publia, lying at the side, groaned. A fellow kicked her. She was

  then silent.

  “Are these ingenious rags yours?” asked Aemilianus of the figure kneeling before

  him.

  “No,” she said.

  “They belonged once, did they not, to a woman called Lady Publia, of Ar’s

  Station?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Why are you wearing them?” asked Aemilianus.

  “I wore them that I not be recognized,” she said.

  “You would fear then,” he asked, “to be recognized?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You had wished to be taken, perhaps, for the former Lady Publia, of Ar’s

  Station?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Let us see who this woman is,” said Aemilianus, “who has disguised herself as

  the former Lady Publia, and who for some reason, it seems, fears to be

  recognized.” He made a small sign. A man then, carefully, not hurrying, removed

  the veil and turban.

  The free woman knelt very straight. She held her head up, her neck in the

  closely fitting, now-visible collar, not trying to hide anything.

  “Is she recognized?’ asked Aemilianus.

  “She is,” said more than one man, grimly.

  “I think I understand now,” said Aemilianus, “why you feared to be recognized.”

  Lady Claudia was silent.

  “You are the traitress, Lady Claudia,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You attempted escape,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “But you have not escaped, have you?’ he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I have not escaped.” In a way, I thought that this was ironic.

  On the piers, had Cosians swarmed over them, doing slaughter, and, where it

  pleased them, making slaves, her beauty, which was considerable, bared and

  submitted, might have found favor with conquerors. She (pg.379) might even have

  been thrown chained to an officer, thenceforth to be his and serve him with

  perfection, at least until, say, he might tire of her, and, say, give or sell

  her to another. She might even have served in her way as a souvenir to one

  fellow or another of the action at Ar’s Station. More mercy might she then have

  found in the wielder of a bloody sword on the piers than in the abstractions of

  the justice of her own city. The man with the sword is at least swayable; he is

  at least human and real.

  “You have been found guilty of treason against your city, and are under sentence

  of impalement, “ said Aemilianus. “Do you gainsay either of these assertions?”

  “No,” she said.

  Aemilianus turned to Marsias, who lay nearby, wounded, reclining on one elbow,

  on a pallet. “Marsais,” said he, “have you the strength to carry out the

  sentence?”

  The man nodded.

  “Do you, Lady Claudia,” asked Aemilianus, “regret your treason?”

  “Keenly,” she said.

  “For you were apprehended,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “But it goes much beyond such simplicities.”

  “Speak,” he said.

  “I have learned,” she said, “in the cell, and in the arms of a man, what I am,

  truly. I forsook the softness and the reality of my being for ambition and

  cruelty. I had not understood earlier what it was to be a woman, or the joys,

  and meaning, of service and love. I sought power when I , rightfully, should

  have been subject to it, reveling in helplessness, submission and love. I did

  great wrong in seeking, one such as I, to interfere in the destiny of states,

  which is not my province. I have brought pain to myself and others. I am pleased

  only that my acts, as far as I know, had no consequences seriously deleterious

  to my city or her citizens.”

  “You accept the justice of your impalement?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she said, “as I am a free woman. But I think it would be more appropriate

  if I were fed to sleen.”

  “Such things are for slaves,’ he said.

  “Yes, Commander,” she said.

  (pg.380) “Look over there,” he said, indicating the former Lady Publia, chained

  and prone. “That is a slave,” he said.

  “Yes,” said Lady Claudia.

  “Are you like her?” he asked, scornfully.

  “Yes,” she said.

  The former Lady Publia, so helpless, looked at her, gratefully, with tears in

  her eyes.

  “No, you are not,” said Aemilianus, “for you are free.”

  “But I envy her,” said Lady Claudia. “She is at least free to be what she is,

  and wholly, but I am not.”

  The slave, frightened, moved a little in her chains. The links made a tiny sound

  on the deck, near her ankles. Looking about, I saw that more than one man would

  have been interested in having her.

  “Has a suitable spear been prepared?” asked Aemilianus.

  “I have seen to it,” said Marsias.

  “Let her garments be removed,” said Aemilianus.

  It took but a moment to pull the rags back, and down, from her body. It would

  take another moment or so to remove them completely, for them to be cut or torn

  from her, as they were now held on her by the chaining of the sirik, that of her

  wrists. Men’s eyes glistened. I heard soft whistles, the intakings of breath,

  small, almost inadvertent gasps, and other tributes, somewhat more vulgar,

  things such as small clicks and the smackings of lips, to her beauty, noises

  which would generally be expected to great the revelation of he beauty of a

  slave, rather than a free woman. She blushed, and yet was proud. I am sure, of

  her beauty. She did have superb slave curves. I did not doubt that what she

  would bring a good price in a slave market. Her entire body gloriously made

  clear a luscious hormonal richness and an exquisite femininity. She was a

  beautiful woman. The rags then had been cut from her and thrown to the side. She

  knelt then before us, beautifully. Many men, including myself, struck our left

  shoulders in applause.

  There was little doubt that Aemilianus h
imself was impressed with her.

  I think that any man might have been impressed with her, whether he found her a

  free prisoner on the deck of the Tais or in some slave market, chained on a

  bench, awaiting a buyer.

  (pg.381)”You could have been a bred slave,” he said.

  “In a sense I am a bred slave,” she said, “for I am a woman.”

  “The spear is ready,” said a man.

  “Let her chains be removed,” said Aemilianus, “and her hands tied behind her.

  Use a belly thong.”

  With the belly thong, presumably her hands would be tied closely, tightly, at

  the small of her back. This is an excellent, general tie. It is seldom, however,

  if ever, used in impalements. Apparently Aemilianus had call for the tie, in

  this context, as an act of mercy. He did not want her to be able to get her

  fingers on the spear which, in their futility and helplessness, might delay, or

  deepen or prolong the agony of impalement.

  “May I speak?” I inquired.

  One fellow, with a thong, and the key to the Lady Claudia’s locks had already

  stepped forward. When I spoke, he halted, and stepped back. I assumed he would

  remove the Lady Claudia’s wrist rings first, then affix the belly thong on her,

  fastening her hands behind her back, tightly, and then, and then only, remove

  the ankle rings and the collar, the remainder of the sirik. Such, at any rate,

  would have been a common Gorean manner of proceeding.

  “Of course,” said Aemilianus.

  “In the cell, yesterday morning,” I said, it seemed a long time ago now, “I

  gathered that my fate was not to be inextricably linked to that of Lady Claudia,

  that you had perhaps not convinced yourself, and quite properly, of my guilt in

  the matter of espionage.”

  “true,” said Aemilianus. “I was not sure of you, what you were, or why you did

  what you did. There are still many things I do not understand, for example,

  about the military actions, and inactions, of the past months.”

  “Much would become clear,” I said, “if you were willing to entertain the

  possibility of treason in Ar, treason in high places, treason of profound

  character and enormous scope.”

  “Only days ago,” said Aemilianus, “that would have seemed unthinkable.”

  “But it is not so unthinkable now?” I asked.

 

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