by John Norman
“And had it not been my pleasure?” I asked.
His eyes briefly clouded. “That would have been most regrettable,” he said.
A fellow sitting beside him, seated as he was, cross-legged, on his right hand, remained impassive.
The fellow was not of the “strange men.”
He had short-cropped blond hair, and squarish, heavy features. He wore an informal, brown robe, which betokened no caste in particular. He was, I took it, the envoy whose arrival Lord Nishida had been awaiting. I supposed him an agent of Kurii, one who might pose as an agent of Priest-Kings. He was not, however, Sullius Maximus.
At the edges of the lacquered platform, one on each side, crouched two larls. Behind Lord Nishida, at the back of the platform, stood six of the “strange men,” each armed with a glaive, the blade of which, socketed in its stout pole, was some two-and-a-half feet in length, and curved. It was presumably an infantry weapon. It could be used for either thrusting or slashing. It would not be thrown. Whereas I would not have anticipated difficulty in getting behind one such weapon, it would be exceedingly dangerous if there were two such weapons, as an aggressor would be likely to be vulnerable to the blow of the second weapon. As the glaive is used most effectively forward or to the soldier’s left, if the wielder is right-handed, one would try to keep to the wielder’s right. Behind Lord Nishida, to his left, stood what I took to be two women of the “strange men,” each lovely, each fully clothed, neither veiled, unlike most Gorean free women, particularly of wealth or high caste, in what I supposed, on Earth, would be spoken of as kimonos. I shall, in any event, use that word for such garments, henceforth. Too, interestingly, the garment worn by Lord Nishida, as it is called by the same word in Gorean, korti, I will refer to as a kimono, as well. The woman’s kimono is rather different from that of the man. The man’s kimono is informal, elegant, and loose, and allows much freedom of movement. The woman’s kimono seems narrower and, particularly from the waist down, much more constrictive. The women would walk with short, graceful steps, which gave them an unusual, distinctive gait. The robes of the Gorean free woman, while layered and cumbersome, have much greater play at the hem. The kimono, incidentally, is not allowed to the collar-girls of the “strange men.” This is not surprising, of course, as they are animals.
I wondered if they were examples of the “contract women” of which Tajima had spoken. In any event both were on the platform with Lord Nishida, which suggested status, though in a subordinate position. It seemed clear that neither was, so to speak, a Ubara, who would have shared a throne with a Ubar, if not his power. Neither, too, seemed a “display woman,” a “trophy woman,” or such. In the high cities “display slaves” are not uncommon. For example, a rich man’s palanquin, borne by slaves, may be followed by a single or double coffle of display slaves, uniformly tunicked, back-braceleted and neck-chained. They are a display of wealth. Similarly, slaves might be displayed about the foot of a Ubar’s throne, stripped and chained. These are commonly former high women taken in war. For example, the daughters of a Ubar defeated in battle, now the slaves of the conqueror, may be so displayed, as trophies attesting to the victor’s might and skill.
“You have a lovely slave,” said Lord Nishida.
Cecily had heeled me into the pavilion. After entering with me, she had gone, as was proper, to first obeisance position, beside me, a bit back and to my left. In first obeisance position, often assumed by a slave in the presence of a free man, she kneels with her head to the ground, and the palms of her hands down on the ground on either side of her head. The usual second obeisance position has the slave go to her belly, her hands on either side of her head.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Please allow her to kneel up,” said Lord Nishida.
“Kneel up,” I told Cecily.
She then knelt up, her back straight, her head up, her hands on her thighs. As was appropriate in the circumstances, she kept her knees modestly together.
“Excellent, excellent,” said Lord Nishida. “How pretty they are.”
I glanced to the two women of the “strange men” on the lacquered platform. They were looking upon Cecily, but I saw no sign of envy, hostility, or jealously. This was quite different from the way in which a Gorean free woman would look upon a slave girl. They see the slave girl as a vulnerable, but hated rival, with whom, for the interest of men, they could not begin to compete. These women, however, seemed to view Cecily more as one might have a lovely pet, doubtless of great interest to men but not really constituting a threat to themselves, and their position. I would later learn that these were, indeed, “contract women,” who, as girls, were often sold to pleasure houses, most often by their parents. Sometimes, too, they would sell themselves to such a house, to be trained in arts of pleasure, for example, music, dancing, singing, conversation, and such. As their contracts could be bought and sold they were, in effect, slaves, but they were not thought of as such. For example, they occupied an understood, accepted, and generally respected niche in their society. They were not tunicked, not branded, not collared, and so on. They were not “collar-girls.” Indeed, they regarded themselves, without arrogance, and with much justification, as far superior to collar-girls. They were, in their view, in a different category altogether. The collar-girl was an animal who might be put to the straw in a stable, and would not even be permitted within the refined precincts of the pleasure house. The collar-girl was ignorant of the simplest things, even the proper serving of tea, the careful, delicate, symbolic arrangements of flowers, and such. She would be of little interest to a gentleman, save for her performance of lengthy, servile labors, and her squirmings, gaspings, moanings, thrashings, and beggings, perhaps back-braceleted, in his arms. Certainly the contract women knew the attractions of simple collar-girls for males, but they did not regard them as rivals. When, wearied of a world’s concerns, he wished to spend a leisurely, elegant evening, gratifying his various cultivated senses, physical, intellectual, and aesthetic, his choice would not be the collar-girl, but the women trained to comfort and delight him in traditional and cultural manners. Interestingly, though I suppose there must be exceptions to this generalization, the women of the “strange men” seem generally reconciled to the fact, and will even expect, that their males will seek gratifications beyond the walls of their own domiciles. Nothing culturally heinous seems to be associated with this matter. As many companionships are arranged between families, with considerations not of love, or even of attraction, paramount, but of wealth, prestige, status, and such, and the young people often being scarcely considered in the matter, this is, I suppose, understandable. The female companion’s complacency in this matter, or her understanding, or her tolerance, is, one gathers, quite different from what would be expected in the case of, say, a Gorean free companion, who, commonly, would find these arrangements outrageous and insufferable. For example, she would not be likely, resignedly, without question, to pay a bill arriving at her domicile from a pleasure house, pertaining to a pleasant evening spent there by her companion. In the light of these considerations, to the extent they might apply, then, it should be clear why the “contract women” would not be likely to concern themselves overly much with collar-girls. First, they regard the collar-girls as far inferior to themselves, and thus scarcely in the category of rivals, and, secondly, they share the general view, as I understand it, of the women of the “strange men,” namely that they have little or no hold over a male, and he may be expected to pick flowers, so to speak, where he pleases. If, however, a contract woman might find herself in love with a client, she, being quite human, and utterly helpless in her contractual status, might, understandably, resent his interest in, say, another contract woman, or, even, as absurd as it might seem, a collar-girl.
In any event, neither of the women, whom I took to be contract women, took much interest in Cecily, or gave her much attention. To be sure, they doubtless recognized that she was attractive, and might, accordingly, be of interest
, even considerable interest, to men, but what would that, really, have to do with them? She was different. She was nothing. She was a collar-girl.
Lord Nishida turned to the fellow sitting beside him, to his right. “Two met our friend, Tarl Cabot, as planned, and brought him to the reserve, where contact took place between him and Tajima,” he said.
“Yes,” said the fellow with short-cropped blond hair.
“These two,” said Lord Nishida, “were selected suitably, as specified?” said Lord Nishida.
“One was selected with great care, following diligent inquiry, and exacting research, from amongst several, from over two hundred,” said the blond fellow, “according to your various specifications.”
“You made the selection yourself?” said Lord Nishida.
“I would trust it to no other,” said the fellow.
“The appropriate background, the appropriate characteristics, egotism, ambition, greed, a lack of scrupulosity, and such?”
“Yes,” said the blond fellow.
“And are my senses likely to be pleased?” inquired Lord Nishida.
“I think you will be pleased,” he said. “Indeed, two businessmen in our service concurred in my judgment.”
“Excellent,” said Lord Nishida.
“The other did not much matter,” said the blond fellow.
“True,” said Lord Nishida. “Tajima,” said Lord Nishida, quietly.
“Yes,” said Tajima.
“The other’s purpose was served, surely, when the reserve was reached,” said Lord Nishida. “Yet I understand he is in the camp. Why did you not kill him?”
“I was reluctant to stain my blade with inferior blood, that of a weakling,” said Tajima. “I would have left him behind, for animals, but Tarl Cabot, tarnsman, our guest, desired that he be permitted to accompany us.”
“I see,” said Lord Nishida. “You did right, then, to bring him to the camp.”
Tajima bowed his head, slightly, acknowledging this judgment of Lord Nishida.
“He may be disposed of later,” said Lord Nishida.
“I am sure,” I said, “he may prove of service.”
“There is no place in this camp,” said Lord Nishida, “for cowards or weaklings.”
“He may be neither,” I said.
“Summon him forth,” said Lord Nishida. “Put a sword in his hand, and put him against our servitor, Tajima.”
“He is less than unskilled,” I said. “He knows nothing of the sword.”
“Summon him,” said Lord Nishida.
“I protest,” I said.
“Summon him,” said Lord Nishida, not unkindly.
His attitude gave me pause.
In moments Pertinax was conducted within the pavilion. He had apparently been in the vicinity, which led me to believe that Miss Wentworth, too, must now be nearby, though perhaps not yet permitted within the pavilion.
One of the long, curved swords, with the large hilt, was placed in the hands of Pertinax, at which he looked, apprehensively. A colored cord dangled from the hilt, which terminated in a tufted blue tassel. Tajima then backed away from him, and, smoothly, drew forth his own weapon, which he gripped with two hands, and assumed what, for such a weapon, was apparently an on-guard position. The position seemed formal, and quite stylized, but there was no mistaking the readiness, or menace, of his attitude.
“You will fight,” said Lord Nishida. “One of you is to die. Prepare to fight.”
Pertinax cast me a look of bewilderment, and misery.
But he did not turn about, and run.
I was proud of him. Too, I did not think he would have made it to the exit of the pavilion.
Four fellows now stood there, two armed with glaives, two with swords.
Tajima moved toward Pertinax, and, twice, feinted toward him.
Pertinax lifted the blade, weakly, and then, putting down his head, in defeat, lowered it.
“You will now kill him,” said Lord Nishida to Tajima.
I recalled Tajima was in training.
Tajima turned away from Pertinax, and faced Lord Nishida. “Lord,” said he, “set me rather the slaughter of a tethered verr.”
Tajima had his back to Pertinax.
But, from my training, I knew his every sense was alert, on a knife’s edge of cold fire.
I trusted that Pertinax would not act.
Tajima seemed wholly at ease, even disgusted, certainly indolent. There was insult emblazoned in his very posture.
I trusted that Pertinax would not act.
In a moment it became clear to me that Pertinax would not seize his apparent opportunity.
I smiled to myself, and, suddenly, almost inaudibly, I moved my foot, quickly, in the dirt.
Instantly Tajima had whirled about, his sword ready to fend a blow.
His action was so quick that I, familiar with the reflexes of warriors, which often spell the difference between life and death, must admire it, and Pertinax, startled, gasped, his blade still haplessly lowered.
“He may be permitted to live,” said Lord Nishida, “for the time.”
One of the guards relieved Pertinax of the weapon.
“Well done!” I said to Pertinax.
“I did nothing,” he said.
“That is why you are still alive,” I said.
I turned to Lord Nishida.
“My thanks, great lord,” I said.
He inclined his head, a little.
Tajima returned his sword to his belt.
Pertinax stepped back, shaken.
“If I may,” I said to Lord Nishida, “I would now like to speak of matters of importance.”
There was much I wanted clarified.
What was going on here? Why had I been brought here? What was I to do here? What was expected of me? It seemingly had something to do with my being a tarnsman, but, beyond that, I understood very little, little or nothing.
“Yes,” said Lord Nishida, “we must speak of matters of importance, and soon, but, first, we should attend to a matter which is not important.”
I stepped back.
Lord Nishida then looked to the blond fellow with short-cropped hair, he in the nondescript brown tunic, who had had little to say, but had been muchly attentive to all that had transpired. In his seemingly slumberous stolidity he reminded me a bit of the inert larls who crouched at the edges of the platform. I trusted they had been well fed.
“I think you will be pleased,” said the blond fellow.
Lord Nishida then looked to Tajima.
“We thought it might be appropriate,” he said, “if one agent, Mr. Gregory White, introduced his superior and colleague, Miss Margaret Wentworth.”
“‘Gre-gor-e-white’ and ‘Mar-gar-et-went-worth’,” said Lord Nishida. “Barbarian names are so difficult.” Then he said, “Please proceed.”
Tajima bowed politely, and then motioned for Pertinax to follow him, and went toward the threshold of the pavilion. Shortly thereafter, a small figure, completely covered, from head to foot, wholly concealed in a large sheet of white rep-cloth, was conducted forward, a guard on each side of it, Pertinax a little before it, on its left, and Tajima in the background.
This group stood, then, before the platform, or dais.
Lord Nishida leaned forward.
The small figure, as noted, was covered, from head to foot, in the rep-cloth sheet.
I supposed this must be Miss Wentworth, from the slightness of the figure and the rep-cloth sheet, but I would have expected Miss Wentworth to be quite urgent and vocal, now that she had been permitted within the pavilion. Perhaps it was not she.
From the size of the figure and hints of the sheet it seemed clear that the figure within the sheet was that of a female, and, quite possibly, one who might stimulate spirited bidding.
I could see where the sheet was bunched, before her body, where she held it about her with two small fists.
I could see the small figure was barefoot.
It must be
Miss Wentworth, but her silence was surprising.
I wondered that she did not speak.
Perhaps she was unaware that she was now within the pavilion, and standing before the dais of Lord Nishida.
Miss Wentworth had been muchly dismayed with her tunic, and particularly so after I had altered it more to a male’s satisfaction. She regarded the simple, graceful garment, it seems, as not only unconscionably brief, but despicably insulting. Too, I think she suspected its likely effect upon males, and this caused her considerable uneasiness.
A male, seeing her in such a garment, would doubtless suppose she was exactly what she appeared to be, a slave.
And who knew what consequences might then ensue?
It might not be amiss to insert a parenthetical remark here.
Whereas a Gorean free woman, used to extensive robing and veiling, reduced to bondage, and tunicked, not only face-stripped, now forbidden veiling, but revealingly clad, might almost die of shame to be seen so displayed, a girl of Earth is far less likely to have the same emotional response to brief or revealing clothing. She is, for example, familiar with miniskirts, sun suits, beachwear, and such. Indeed, the typical Gorean slave tunic is a great deal more modest than much of what might be routinely encountered at poolside in various resorts, hotels, spas, and so on. The acceptability of such garmentures to the Earth female is commonly taken by the Gorean, who tends to be a bit prudish in such matters, save where slaves are concerned, as evidence of the suitability of Earth females for the collar. Any Gorean female who appeared so, publicly, would be taken as “courting the collar.” Indeed, the state might take her in hand, and brand and sell her. Needless to say, as well, the nature of much of Earth lingerie confirms this view of the Earth female in Gorean eyes. Consider the brevity and softness of such garments. Are they not, then, secret slaves, slaves awaiting their masters? So Earth girls brought to Gor must largely learn the shame and degradation of the tunic, which, however, is not too difficult to grasp when, shortly, they see the contrast between their garmenture and that of the free woman, and understand how they are viewed. Then they may learn to weep in shame at their exposure. This, of course, is a temporary phase, for, soon, the slave, whether a barbarian fetched hither for the block, or a Gorean free woman reduced to bondage, discovers how special, different, and wonderful she has now become, that she is now a mere slave. They come to understand that they are now desired, as never before. They come to see free women as dangerous, but pathetically unhappy, repressed creatures. They fear free women, but, in their way, pity them for they cannot know the ecstasies, fulfillments, and joys of the slave. They come to a new understanding of their bodies, and are at peace with them, perhaps for the first time in their lives, and rejoice in them, and come to love them, and come to see them as delicious and lovely contrasts to the sternness and power, the rudeness and brutishness, of the male bodies, to which they will be forced to submit. They come to understand the magnificent complementarity of nature, and their lovely role in this complementarity. They would not now be other than they are, for they have finally come to understand the glorious preciousness of themselves, even though they may sell for no more than a handful of copper tarsks. The slave now knows that she is beautiful and desired. Accordingly, she soon walks happily, and beautifully, walks as a desirable female, and the most desirable of all females, the female slave, something for which men will pay. She now wears the tunic, or camisk, well, shamelessly, no longer dismayed that her beauty is brazenly displayed, but is now well pleased that it should be so. “Let me be seen, Masters. Look upon me! This is what you have collared!” The beautiful female body is no longer something which is to be hidden, as though it were a blemish or sore, something of which one is supposed to be ashamed, rather than something of which one is to be accepting, and pleased. So the slave now rejoices in her beauty, and, in her female vanity, relishes the fact that it must now, by the will of men, but as she wishes, too, be displayed for their pleasure. And so, slave-clad, she appears in public. The slaves of a city are amongst its most beautiful sights. Behold them in the streets and markets! How exciting and beautiful they are! And does the slave’s beauty, shamelessly flaunted before the master, not tempt him to its taking! How it torments him, and drives him wild, and the briefly clad, sinuous she-sleen are well aware of what they are doing. Well they know the power that lurks in an ankle, or the turn of a head. Do masters not sometimes bind and lash their slaves for their insolence and pride, until, at his feet, they offer him their beauty’s placation, piteously reminding him that it is his to do with as he wishes. And do they not even smile, or laugh, under the lash, until, say, the third or fourth stroke, well reassured of their effect upon him.