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

by Renegades of Gor [lit]

  saw her hands twist in the shackles, high above her head. Her body, suspended in

  the harness, swung a bit, and then turned from side to side, over the water. I

  glanced from her to Publia, and then back to her. I agreed with the shouts of

  pleasure and commendation from the small boats. Both slaves were excellent.

  Calliodorus was sure to be congratulated on his display.

  “Is that the extend of the dispatches, Commander?” asked a man.

  “It is perhaps as much as you should know now,” said Aemilianus, grimly.

  “Commander!” protested a man.

  “The occasion is festive,” said Aemilianus. “Perhaps it is well that you learn

  the rest later.”

  “Please, Commander,” said a man.

  “The Home Stone has reached Ar,” he said.

  “Good,” said a man, overjoyed.

  “Better it had never done so,” said Aemilianus.

  “Commander!” said a fellow.

  “It is under guard near the Central Cylinder, on the Avenue of the Central

  Cylinder,” he said. “There it is exposed that the citizens of Ar, and any who

  please, may file past it and spit upon it.”

  “Vengeance!” cried the young warrior, Marcus.

  “And we, of course, and all those who abetted us, have been pronounced

  renegades.”

  “Vengeance!” wept the young warrior, Marcus. His sword was out of its sheath.

  “Vengeance!” cried a man.

  “Vengeance!” cried others.

  There were cries of rage. Swords were drawn.

  “Sheath your swords, beloved friends,” said Aemilianus. (pg. 422) “Let us now,

  upon this holiday, to be declared the day of the Topaz, put aside all thoughts

  of fury and blood. Rather hasten to brush your garments and put smiles upon your

  faces. Consider your mien. Upon your countenances, I beg you, this day, let

  there be only the appearance of joy. Let this day rightfully redound to the

  glory of Port Cos, our brethren of the river, and let us rejoice with them, and

  with ourselves, for our deliverance. Our gratitude has been richly deserved. Let

  us not be sparing in its exception. Surely you realize that the fidelity of Port

  Cos to the pledge of the Topaz may cost her greatly in the future.”

  “Those of Port Cos have proved better friends to us than those of Ar,” said a

  man bitterly.

  “Perhaps the river is its own place,” said a man.

  “Perhaps,” said another.

  I could hear music now, coming from the piers of Port Cos. As the bow swung

  about to enter the harbor I could see the piers were jammed with crowds in their

  holiday finery. It seemed all the caste colors of Gor might be there.

  I heard the sudden crack of a long, plaited, single-bladed slave whip on the bow

  deck. The whip was in the hand of the fellow from Port Cos who, on the journey

  downriver, had acted as the keeper of the two slaves. Slaves are always,

  directly or indirectly, in the keeping of one free person or another. He had not

  struck anyone with the whip. He had only, so to speak, readied the tool. Publia

  had cried out, startled, and in misery. She knew what it was to feel the whip.

  Claudia had cried out, startled, but, too, in fear. She knew she was subject to

  it.

  “Publia,” said the keeper.

  “Yes, Master!” she cried.

  “Claudia,” said he.

  “Yes, Master!” she cried.

  He then, gently, lightly, with a small movement of the wrist, little more than a

  toss, snaked the whip out to the port side. Its single blade harmlessly but

  meaningfully more than encircled Publia. She shuddered. He then repeated this

  action to starboard.

  “When I speak, you will attend to me,” he said.

  “Yes, Master!” said Publia.

  “Yes, Master!” said Claudia.

  (pg.423) “Beloved friends,” said Aemilianus, “prepare yourselves to be received

  by our friends of Port Cos.”

  Swords were sheathed.

  Most of those about Aemilianus then withdrew from the bow deck. Surilius

  remained, and the young warrior, Marcus, and some others. I, too, remained.

  “Surely Ar herself will cry out for vengeance,” I said, “for the loss of Ar’s

  Station, her pride upon the Vosk.”

  “Such seems to be the spirit in the northern camp of Ar,” said Aemilianus.

  “This you have, too, from the dispatches?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “The forces of Ar in the north,” I said, should move south with rapidity, before

  the spring, to engage the main power of Cos. Were it not for the action of

  Dietrich of Tarnburg at Torcadino, she would already be at the gates of Ar.”

  “But they will not do so, will they?” asked Aemilianus.

  “They must do so,” I said.

  “They are apparently intent upon destroying the Cosian expeditionary force in

  the north,” said Aemilianus.

  “That would seem easy enough to do,” said Marcus, bitterly. “Although the

  Cosians outnumbered us ten to one, their numbers would be no match for what, I

  gather, is nearly the full might of Ar.”

  “Even so, they might not have as easy a time of it as they think,” said

  Aemilianus. “They think that force has been in winter quarters, like themselves,

  though at Ar’s Station. They do not realize it is battle burdened, that it has

  been in action for months.”

  “But if you were the Cosian commander in the north,” I said to Aemilianus, “you

  would surely, if possible, avoid engaging the main body of Ar.”

  “True,” said Aemilianus.

  “He will not be able to do so,” said Marcus. “Ar’s northern forces are

  interposed between Ar’s Station and Brundisium. They could also cut off a

  retreat to Torcadino.”

  “It would seem so,” said Aemilianus.

  “It would be difficult for them to cross the river, to the north,” said Marcus,

  “and, even so, they could be followed. Too, they are unlikely to withdraw to the

  terrain of the (pg.424) Salerian Confederation, for it will not wish to risk war

  with Ar. If they try to intrude by force into those territories they could well

  find themselves between the Salerians and Ar. The fate of the Cosians in the

  north is a foregone conclusion.”

  “Few conclusions in war, my eager young friend,” said Aemilianus, “are

  foregone.”

  “With all due respect, Commander,” said Marcus. “Ar’s position in the north is

  ideal for destroying the expeditionary force.”

  “But they would have to encounter it first,” said Aemilianus.

  “It is an army,” said Marcus, “not ten men traveling at night.”

  “Cos controls the skies,” said Aemilianus.

  “Even so,” protested Marcus.

  “It would not surprise me,” said Aemilianus, quietly, “if the expeditionary

  force slipped past the men of Ar.”
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  “Between the winter camp and the southern back of the Vosk,” I said.

  “Precisely,” said Aemilianus, grimly.

  “That is absurd,” said Marcus. “They would be pinned against the river. It would

  be a slaughter.”

  “But only if they were caught,” said Aemilianus.

  “No sane commander would elect such a route,” said Marcus.

  “Unless he knew something which you do not,” said Aemilianus.

  “The whole idea is absurd,” said Marcus.

  “Is it any the less absurd,” asked Aemilianus, “that Ar should have been digging

  latrines in winter camp while the walls of Ar’s Station were crumbling?”

  “But Ar might still be apprised of these movements in time to interpose herself

  between the expeditionary force and its base at Brundisium,” said Marcus,

  slowly. “Thus, to what end west?”

  “What lies west of the Vosk,” asked Aemilianus.

  “On the southern bank, Ven,” said Marcus. Turmus, which is the last major town

  west on the Vosk, is on the northern bank.

  “And what beyond Ven?’ asked Aemilianus.

  “The delta,” said Marcus.

  “Precisely,” said Aemilianus.

  (pg.425) “I do not think I understand these things,” said Marcus, slowly.

  “I hope that I do not either,” said Aemilianus. “But I am afraid, terribly

  afraid.”

  “In the fall,” I said, “I spoke with Dietrich of Tarnburg, in Torcadino. He had

  similar apprehensions.”

  “I understand nothing of this,” said Marcus.

  “You are young in the ways of war,” said Aemilianus. “Not everything in war is

  nodding plumes and the sun flashing from silvered clouds.”

  “If Ar is in danger,” he said, “she must be warned.”

  “By renegades?” asked Aemilianus.

  “Renegades?” he asked.

  “Surely,” said Aemilianus. “I, you, the others, all of us, we have all be

  pronounced renegades.”

  “Should Ar not be warned?” he asked.

  “And what do you think we, we who were abandoned by Ar, we whom she holds in

  dishonor and contempt, we whose Home Stone she spits upon, we whom she has

  pronounced renegades owe to her-—now?”

  “We own her nothing,” said Marcus, bitterly. “But I would still see her warned.”

  “And so, too, would I,” said Aemilianus, smiling. “So, too, would I.”

  “But of what is she to be warned?” he asked.

  “And to whom would you speak?” I asked.

  “We do not know for certain what is going to happen,” said Aemilianus. “At the

  moment we have little but our suspicions, our fears.”

  “Ar will destroy the Cosians in the north, and then destroy them in the south,”

  said Marcus.

  “Quite possibly,” said Aemilianus.

  “Then there is nothing to do,” he said, slowly.

  “Not now,” said Aemilianus.

  We were now within the harbor at Port Cos. The piers were some three hundred

  yards away, jammed with people. Music came from them. Pennons waved. The pharos

  on its promontory was behind us now, to port, something like a pasang away. The

  flotilla, entering the harbor, with its flags and streamers, would be a splendid

  sight. Already, too, from the piers, it would be able to be seen that the two

  slaves hung (pg.426) from the outjutting display beams on either side of the

  concave bow of the Tais.

  “Do not concern yourself now about such matters,” said Aemilianus to the young

  warrior. “Rejoice now. We have come safe to Port Cos.”

  The slave whip snapped again, loudly, sharply, unmistakable in its definition

  and authority. The two girls cried out again, startled. Publia jerked in her

  harness as though she might have been struck, but it had not touched her.

  Claudia, too, winced, but, too, it had not touched her.

  “Publia, Claudia!” said the keeper.

  “Yes, Master!” said Publia.

  “Yes, Master!” said Claudia.

  “You, Publia,” he said, “prepared well to surrender yourself to Cosians.”

  “Yes, Master,” she wept.

  “You, Claudia,” he said, “were a traitress to your city.”

  “Yes, Master,” she wept.

  “And you are not both slaves,” he said.

  “Yes, Master!” they said.

  “And so,” he said, “you will enter Port Cos as the slaves, and sluts, you are.”

  “Master?” asked Publia.

  “The movements of your hips, and your squirmings and glances,” he said, “will

  leave no doubt as to the fittingness of your bondage.”

  “Master!” wept Publia, in protest.

  “Please, no, Master!” called Claudia.

  “Your movements for the most part,” said the keeper, “will be slow and sensuous,

  but terribly meaningful, sexually. These may be mixed upon occasion with sudden,

  perhaps surprising, movements, almost spasmodic, or spasmodic, in nature. I

  trust that you understand these things. If there is difficulty in the matter it

  may perhaps be clarified by the whip.”

  Publia threw back her head and wept, in the harness.

  “You, Publia, first,” he said. He then required of her a variety of forward and

  backward movements of the lower belly, and then lateral movements of the hips.

  These things ranged, in their varieties, from almost imperceptible extensions

  and shadings, to sharp, forward thrusts, such as bumps (pg.427) and buckings,

  and from scarcely detectible lateral movements, to tantalizing or abrupt

  movements, to rhythmical swayings. He had Claudia, too, do these things. “Now,”

  said he, “consider transitions among such movements.” My hands clenched on the

  rail. The slaves were beautiful. “Now,” said he, “slow, rotatory movements of

  the hips, slow, agonizingly slow, grinding movements!” I thought that many on

  the piers might have to hurry their own girls home, if they could make it that

  far. I was almost in pain.

  “Well done, girls,” said the keeper. “And do not forget the beauty of your

  breasts, and your squirmings, your glances and smiles.”

  Publia cried out in misery.

  We were now something like a hundred yards from the piers. Two of the fellows on

  the bow deck already had the forward lines in hand.

  “It has been decided, slaves,” said the keeper to them, “hat you will be sold at

  auction. In order, however, that you come into the keeping of Cosians,

  attendance at the auction, save by sales personnel, will be limited to Cosians.

  After a Cosian buys you, of course, he can do with you what he wants. We are now

  nearing the pier. I will point out various Cosians in the crowd, for there will

  be several. They are recognizable by their habiliments. You will then direct

  your glances and your movements particularly to them. Be pretty. Arouse interes
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  in yourselves. We want them sweating blood when they bid for you!”

  Aemilianus was already raising his hand to the crowds. There was much cheering.

  “Look!” cried a fellow on the dock, pointing to the slaves.

  “Yes!” said a man. “Yes!” cried another.

  “Sensuous sluts!” laughed a man.

  Claudia cried out with misery, but did not cease to move.

  As so many were waving to us, I, too, with many of the others, at the starboard

  rail, waved back.

  All seemed a riot of music and color.

  “There,” said the keeper, gesturing with his whip, as we drew alongside the

  pier. “There is a fellow of Cos! Present yourselves to him! You are female

  slaves! Do it! And there is another!”

  “I am not such a girl!” suddenly cried Claudia.

  (pg.428) Then she threw back her head and shrieked, as the lash, like lightning

  and fire, struck about her body.

  She dangled and jerked in the harness, sobbing, though she had been struck but

  once.

  “I am such a girl!” cried Publia, fervently, seeing the keeper turn toward her.

  “I am such a girl!”

  “If she is recalcitrant, or not pleasing,” cried slave girls on the pier,

  “strike her! Strike her! Punish her! Punish her! Punish her severely!”

  Slave girls, kept under strict discipline themselves, they wanted it imposed on

  others with the same authority, exactness and perfection that it was imposed

  upon them. They were deeply concerned that Claudia not be permitted to get away

  with anything, no more than they. Was she, too, not a slave girl? Thus,

  interestingly, it is often slave girls themselves who are most zealous to see

  that masters are strict with their slaves.’’

  The keeper turned back toward Claudia.

  “I, too, am such a girl!” she cried out, wildly, swinging in the harness.

  Clearly she did not wish another blow from the disciplinary instrument. Yet,

  too, I think that the matter was far deeper than that, and this became clear but

  an instant later. The chain-and-leather harness, incidentally, is muchly open.

  That is what one would expect, considering its display purposes. On the other

  hand, a consequence of this openness, also, of course, is that it affords