Norman, John - Gor 19 - Kajira of Gor.txt

by Kajira of Gor [lit]

  others, fled. The slave on my right, she who was brought to Gor as my double,

  was left behind on the throne, to be captured and, in my place, bear the wrath

  of the enemy. As you know, she escaped. A vast, intense and lengthy search was

  undertaken to recover her. In this search, as you know, as well, both of us were

  eventually apprehended. Now both of us, she who was the Tatrix and she who was

  her double, now both no more than slaves, kneel stripped before you, helpless In

  your chains.” She put down her head.

  “Speak further,” said Claudius.

  The slave lifted her head. “You may put me under tortures, Master,” she said,

  “but, woe, I know little more than I have spoken. The beasts keep us much in

  ignorance so that, if captured, we can reveal little of their strategies and

  plans. What details there are beyond those I have given you would, I fear, be

  meaningless or trivial to you, such things as descriptions of the appearances of

  agents on Earth, where I was first contacted, and such.”

  “As beasts may be allied with men,” said Claudius, “so, too, I suppose, might

  men be allied with Priest-Kings.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered.

  “Are there not, then, on Gor, places where such men may be found?” asked

  Claudius.

  “There are several, doubtless, Master,” she said.

  “Name one such place,” said Claudius.

  She turned white. She looked to Hassan, her master. His eyes forbade hesitation.

  Neither mercy nor lenience were to be shown to her.

  “The house of Samos, in Port Kar,” she whispered.

  Claudius looked to Menicius.

  Claudius then regarded Ligurious.

  “I choose not to comment on these matters,” he said, straightening himself. He

  seemed very strong. He was the sort of man, it seemed to me, who might serve as

  master to the slave in almost any woman. Many times, I knew, I had felt the

  helpless desire and fear of a slave in his presence. Sheila did not meet his

  eyes. No longer was she a Tatrix. She was now naught but a stripped and chained

  slave.

  “Tortures, doubtless,” said Menicius, “might be brought to bear upon your

  resolve.”

  “True,” said Ligurious, “but only at the cost of sacrificing the honor of

  Argentum.”

  Claudius looked at Ligurious.

  “Claudius?” asked Menicius.

  “Ligurious, it is true,” said Claudius, “came to us a free man, of his own will.

  He has been guaranteed immunity in Argentum, and has been guaranteed a safe

  conduct from her walls.”

  “He has sought to misdirect our inquiries and has distorted and misrepresented

  evidence,” said a man.

  “Perjurious abominations he has uttered!” cried a man. “Impale him!” cried

  another.

  “Impale him!” cried yet another. Men rose to their feet, shaking their fists.

  “Impale him!” cried several.

  Ligurious smiled. The victory was his. What a small thing would be his

  impalement compared to the stain on the escutcheon of Argentum. His freedom was

  guaranteed.

  “Remove the former first minister of Corcyrus from our presence,” said Claudius,

  “lest I be tempted to betray the pledge of my city. Let his shackles be removed

  only in his own quarters, to which he is to be closely confined.”

  Two soldiers seized Ligurious by the arms,

  “We have to inquire into these matters,” said Claudius to Ligurious, “and

  resolutions to be made. It is possible we may have need of you for further

  testimony, asseverations germane to our proceedings. In any event, your presence

  will be retained for our pleasure until our deliberations have been concluded.

  Then, and then only, will the pledge of Argentum be honored.”

  “Such a reservation is fully in accord with our original arrangements,” said

  Ligurious loftily.

  “I abide by your decision as willingly as I must also abide by it, perforce.”

  “Postpone the deliberations a thousand years!” cried a man.

  “That is not the way of Argentum,” smiled Claudius.

  At a gesture from Claudius Ligurious was conducted from the room.

  “Do you object, Menicius, my friend?” asked Claudius.

  “I had not realized the guarantees extended by Argentum,” said Menicius. “You

  have, of course, under the circumstances, no choice.”

  “I feel sorry for him in a way,” said Claudius, looking after Ligurious. “He is

  a strong man, ruthless and powerful, proud and strong, but he permitted himself

  to be the dupe of a female, to be wound about the finger of a woman.”

  Claudius then pointed to Sheila. “Bring that slave forward,” he said.

  With a whimper Sheila was dragged to her feet, pulled forward and, with’ a

  rattle of chain, thrown to her knees before Claudius.

  “This woman,” said Claudius, pointing to Sheila, “has been proved by evidence

  and testimony, both written and oral, to be the former Tatrix of Corcyrus.

  Indeed, this fact has been acknowledged, ultimately, even in her own admission.”

  He looked down at Sheila. “Who captured you and brought you here, Slave?” he

  asked.

  “Hassan, of Kasra, Master,” she said.

  “The reward, then,” said Claudius, “clearly belongs to Hassan, of Kasra. let it

  be brought!”

  An officer left the room. Hassan came’ forward, about the tables, to stand near

  the kneeling slave. In a few moments the officer had returned. He carried a

  heavy, bulging sack over his shoulder which he lowered gently, heavily, to the

  floor before the table. It must have weighed between ninety and one hundred

  pounds.

  “In this sack,” said Claudius, “carefully counted, but assure yourself of the

  matter, are fifteen hundred pieces of gold, stamped staters of Argentum,

  certified by the mint of the Ubar.”

  Hassan looked down at Sheila.

  “Shall scales be brought?” asked Claudius. “We will take no offense. If any

  discrepancy be found, perhaps the result of some inadvertence, we shall see that

  it is made good.”

  “No,” said Hassan. “Weights and balances, the chains and pans, need not be

  fetched forth.”

  “Accept then the reward,” said Claudius. “You have well earned it.”

  “What fate do you intend for this woman?” asked Hassan.

  ‘Claudius shrugged. “The mounting for the impaling spear has already been

  prepared,” he said.

  “The spear itself has been sharpened and polished.”

  “Fifteen hundred gold pieces,” said Hassan, “seems a great deal of’ money for a

  mere slave.”

  “It was you yourself, as I understand it,” smiled Claudius, “who ‘neck-ringed

  her and, shortly thereafter, with a blazing iron, marked her slave.”

  Hassan smiled. “I seem to recall something to that effect,
” he said, He looked

  down at Sheila.

  “Are you a slave?” he asked.

  “Yes, my master,” she said, “and only you know how much a slave.”

  I was thrilled to hear her say this. Every woman, in her deepest heart, wants to

  find a man whom she must serve perfectly, a man who will bring out the

  fundamental and profound slave in her, a man who will bend her uncompromisingly

  and helplessly to his will. In Hassan Sheila, obviously, had found such a man.

  “Are you prepared, now,” asked Hassan, “to be turned over to Claudius and the

  high council?”

  “Yes, Master,” she said. “I ask only, first, to be permitted one last time to

  kiss your feet in respect and reverence, and, in doing so, to express, too, my

  gratitude for the joy you have given me in these few days you have owned me.

  They have been the most precious of my life.” She then, tenderly, kissed his

  feet, extending obeisance and love to the man who had made her a slave. There

  were tears in my eyes.

  Hassan laughed, a roar of a laugh. She looked up, startled.

  “Do you truly think I brought you here,” he laughed, “to turn you over to

  Claudius and the high council?”

  “Of course, Master,” she said. “No!” he laughed.

  There were cries of astonishment from those about.

  “Kiss my feet fifteen hundred times, you luscious baggage,” he laughed, “at

  least once for every gold piece you are costing me!”’

  “Yes, Master,” she cried, startled, putting down her head.

  “This woman was the Tatrix of Corcyrus, was she not?” laughed Hassan.

  “Yes,” said Claudius, startled. “That has been established, even by her own

  admissions.”

  “And I have, thus, earned the reward, fully and clearly, if I should wish it?”

  asked Hassan.

  “Certainly,” said Claudius, puzzled.

  “That is all I wanted,” said Hassan. “Indeed, it is all I ever wanted.”

  “I do not understand,” said Claudius.

  “For years,” said Hassan, “I have heard of the Tatrix of Corcyrus, of her

  tyranny, of her fabled pride and beauty. I found such a woman intriguing. Then,

  wonder of wonders, she fell. None could find her. I was curious to know what it

  would be like to have such a woman in my collar, a fair skinned, golden-haired

  Tatrix of the north, to make her crawl, and cry and serve, to make her a man’s

  woman.”

  I looked at Sheila. She was weeping with joy at his feet, kissing them, and his

  ankles and legs. “I love you, Master,” she wept.

  “So I captured her and made her a slave, mine,” said Hassan.

  “It was never your intention, then, to deliver her to us?” asked a member of the

  high council.

  “No,” said Hassan. “Had that been my intention I would not have removed her

  virginity from her and enslaved her.”

  “Had you never any doubts on this matter?” asked a man.

  “Had I any,” smiled Hassan, “they disappeared the instant I saw her. I knew then

  I would keep her for my own slave.”

  “But why did you bring her here?” asked a man.

  “That you might see her humbled and helpless, and for my own glory,” said

  Hassan.

  “It is pleasing to see the former Tatrix of Corcyrus as a humbled slave,” said a

  man.

  “Yes” said Hassan.

  “What if we take her from you?” asked a man.

  “You will not do so,” said Hassan. “That would be theft”

  “But what of her crimes?” asked a man.

  “Those were the crimes of a free woman,” said Hassan. “She is no longer a free

  woman. She is now only a slave.”

  “I love you, my master,” whispered the slave, her head at his feet.

  “Sheila,” said Hassan.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, lifting her bead.

  “You may continue your obeisances and services in the privacy of my chambers,”

  he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said. She rose to her feet, her head humbly lowered.

  “Conduct her to my quarters,” said Hassan to a soldier, he who held the key to

  her chains, “and chain her to the slave ring at the foot of my couch.”

  The soldier glanced to Claudius, and then nodded. “Come, Slave,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, and was conducted from the room.

  It has been an interesting evening,” said Hassan, lifting his hand to the

  assemblage. “I wish you all well!”

  We, too, wish you well, Hunter,” said Claudius.

  “Hail, Hassan!” called a man.

  “Hail, Hassan!” called others.

  The men rose from about the tables, saluting and applauding Hassan. He, lifting

  his hands, and turning, waving to them, took his leave from the hall. I think he

  was eager to begin the instructions of a slave.

  Men, then, in twos and threes, began to take their leave. Menicius stood before

  me. He put out his hands and I lifted my chained wrists to him. He took my hands

  and turned them over, looking at the snug wrist rings locked on them.

  “If I had my tools,” he said, “I could have these off of you in a matter of

  Ehn.”

  I looked up at him, startled. I knew, of course, that he was of the metal

  workers.

  “But without a key, or such help, you are absolutely helpless in them, aren’t

  you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Master,” I said.

  He smiled.

  “You!” I said. “It was you who freed me in the camp of Miles of Argentum!”

  “Once,” he said, “you spared my life, in Corcyrus. It seemed only fitting, then,

  that I might, if it were within my power, grant you some small favor In return.”

  “But how could you have gained entrance into the camp,” I said. “And there were

  two of you.”

  There was another, as well, one who must have had influence, one who must have

  been trusted, one who must have been more highly placed.

  I saw Drusus Rencius looking at me.

  “You,” I whispered. “It was you!”

  “Perhaps,” he said.

  “But you are an officer of Ar,” I said. “How could you do such a thing?”

  He looked at me, angrily. “I know you,” he said. “Whatever might be your

  frailties, your weaknesses, your pettinesses, your cruelties, I could not

  believe you were guilty of the crimes of the Tatrix of Corcyrus. Such things I

  could not believe were In you. Thus, I did not free the Tatrix of Corcyrus.

  Rather, to prevent a miscarriage of justice, I assisted in the escape of an

  innocent woman. In this sense I could even regard my act as having been

  performed in the line of duty.”

  “You did not know, truly,” I said, “that I was not the Tatrix, nor that I could

  not be guilty of such crimes. Indeed, in Corcyrus, you even identified me,
>
  explicitly, as the Tatrix!”

  His face clouded with anger.

  “Your motivations were more complex,” I said, “and deeper, and more painful and

  more cruel. I was not within your province to determine my innocence or guilt.

  That responsibility was that of Claudius, the Ubar of Argentum, and the high

  council. In no way was it incumbent on you to risk your commission, your future,

  your honor, your life, on what must at best have been little more than a remote

  possibility.”

  He regarded me with fury.

  My heart leapt with joy. “You love me!” I whispered. “You love me!”

  I feared for a moment he might strike me. But he did not do so. I was another

  man’s slave.

  “I love you, Master!” I wept. “I have loved you from the beginning, when I first

  met you!”

  He regarded me, wildly. Then be sneered, “Lying slave!”

  “No, Master!” I protested. “I love you! I do love you! I love you with my whole

  heart!”

  “What is going on here?” asked Miles of Argentum, coming over.

  “Nothing,” said Drusus Rencius

  Menicius was smiling.

  Miles of Argentum took the key to my chains from the soldier who had held it. He

  freed me of those stern impediments, so suitable for the confinement of women

  such as I slaves.

  “Slave,” said he.

  “Yes, my master,” I said.

  “Go to the quarters of my women,” he said.

  “Yes, my master,” I said and, tears in my eyes, fled to the quarters of his

  women.

  34 Ligurious Is Served By Two Slaves

  I lay naked on the couch of Ligurious, in the palace in Argentum. His touch had

  already reduced me, more than once, to a quivering slave.

  “Wine,” he said.

  “Yes, Master,” I said, and struggled up, turning. fetched him the goblet from a

  small, low table near the couch and, in a moment, after kissing the goblet, head

  down, kneeling, arms extended, proffered it to him. He sipped a bit of the wine,

  a Ka-la-na of Ar, and then returned the goblet to me. I kissed it again, and

  then replaced it on the table. With a gesture he indicated that I might once

  again crawl onto the couch. This was the last evening Ligurious was to spend In