Dancer of Gor

by John Norman

  I had been spared!

  He returned to crouch over me. Tightly then were my wrists and ankles tied. He knew well how to tie women. "Oh!" I said, as my ankles were pulled up and fastened to my wrists. He then pulled me to my knees and I knelt helplessly, closely and perfectly bound, before him. He seemed amused.

  "Master?" I asked.

  "You are an excellent slave," he said.

  "Master?" I said.

  "It is to that that you owe your life," he said.

  "I do not understand," I said.

  "And your slave intuitions are excellent," he said.

  "My slave intuitions?" I asked.

  "Yes," he said.

  "I do not understand, Master," I said.

  "Do you truly think we would have let you live, if you had slain a free man?" he asked.

  "You promised me my freedom," I whispered.

  "Once you had done the deed," he said, "we would have cut off your hands. Then we would have cut off your head."

  "You promised me my freedom," I said.

  "And we would have given it to you after the deed, have no fear, for a moment, for our amusement," he said. "Then we would have returned you to bondage for your punishment."

  "Yes, Master," I said, trembling.

  "Thus we would have seen to it that you were punished as a slave, and died as a slave."

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "See that you continue to serve men well," he said.

  "Yes, Master," I said.

  "Oh, Tuka, Tuka!" cried Tupita, softly, in joy.

  The bearded man turned to look upon her, and she shrank back. "See that you, too," he said, "continue to serve men well."

  "Yes, Master!" she said.

  He then looked at Tela.

  "Yes, Master!" she said.

  His gaze then fell upon Mina, and Cara.

  "Yes, Master!" said Mina.

  "Yes, Master!" said Cara.

  "What of him?" asked the man with the bandage on his arm, indicating Mirus.

  "I will kill him," said the bearded man. He drew the sword from his sheath.

  "No!" cried Tupita, running to Mirus, covering his body with her own.

  "I will kill, her, too," said the bearded man.

  "No, please, Master!" I cried.

  "I keep the five tarsks!" cried the small fellow.

  "Ho, Fulvius! Fulvius!" we heard, a man running toward us, across the meadow. It was Callisthenes, he who had come earlier, from the wagon, who had been ordered to return to it.

  The huge beast, that which had survived, who had been the leader of the others, rose up from where it had been sitting, resting back on its haunches, in the grass, half crouching now, to look. It was no longer bleeding but its entire chest was matted with dried blood.

  "I told you to go back to the wagon," said the bearded man, apparently Fulvius. "You were to wait with Alcinous and Portus."

  "They are dead!" gasped the man. "I found them dead!"

  Fulvius and the man with the bandaged arm exchanged glances.

  I saw Tupita draw back from Mirus. He rose up, painfully, on one elbow.

  "How did they die?" demanded Fulvius. "What was the nature of their wounds?"

  "By the sword," said Callisthenes, breathing heavily. "The sword!"

  "They were set upon in stealth?"

  "From the nature of their wounds it would seem they were attacked frontally," said Callisthenes. "And both their swords were drawn."

  "How many assailed them?" asked Fulvius.

  "I think, one," said Callisthenes.

  "There must be more," said Fulvius. "Alcinous and Portus were not unskilled."

  "I do not know," said Callisthenes. "Perhaps."

  "What of tracks?" asked Fulvius.

  "I saw those of Alcinous and Portus, and detected only those of one other," he said.

  "What was the nature of their wounds?" asked Fulvius.

  "The wound of Alcinous was deft, lateral and to the heart," said Callisthenes. "Portus was run through."

  "Portus died second," said Fulvius. "In Alcinous the fellow did not wish to risk the jamming of his blade."

  The fellow with the bandaged arm opened and closed his hand, testing its grip.

  "The wagon is gone, the tharlarion?" asked Fulvius.

  "No," said Callisthenes.

  "What of the purses of Alcinous and Portus?" asked Fulvius.

  "Gone," said Callisthenes.

  "Good," said Fulvius. "Then we are dealing with a brigand."

  "He has probably fled by now," said the small fellow, eagerly.

  "The wounds of Alcinous and Portus were frontal wounds," said Callisthenes.

  "Why would he not flee?" asked the small fellow.

  "Perhaps he has fled," said Fulvius. "We do not know."

  "He may linger in the vicinity," said the fellow with the bandaged arm. "He may be hungry for more gold."

  "And there may be several of them, a band!" said the small fellow.

  "Perhaps," said Fulvius. "But I do not think so."

  "What shall we do?" asked the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  "Can you handle your sword?" asked Fulvius.

  "I think so," he said.

  "Callisthenes?" asked Fulvius.

  "Yes," he said.

  "The beast is gone," said the man with the bandaged arm, suddenly.

  Its departure had been unnoticed.

  "Where is it?" demanded Fulvius of the small fellow.

  "I do not know," he said.

  "It is wounded," said Fulvius. "Too, I suspect it has had its fill of blood for the day."

  The small fellow looked about, anxiously.

  "Are you with us?" asked Fulvius.

  "I am not a fighter," said the small fellow. "I am going to go away, too!"

  "Your beast has deserted you," said Fulvius.

  "I did without them before, and can do so again," he said. He hastened to his pack, near the blanket.

  "Leave the blanket, and the coins upon it," said Fulvius.

  "No!" cried the small fellow.

  "Throw your purse upon it, too," advised Fulvius.

  "No!" he cried.

  "Do so, quickly," said Fulvius, "unless you prefer to put your pack and clothes upon it as well and take your leave with no more than a length of binding to your name, that fastening your hands behind you."

  Angrily the small fellow hurled his purse to the blanket, shouldered his pack, and hurried from the meadow, going in the direction opposite to that from which Callisthenes had come.

  "What if the beast returns?" asked the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  "I do not think it will," said Fulvius. "If it does, I do not know where our small friend went, do you?"

  "No," laughed the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  "If it is angry, presumably it will be angry with him. Perhaps it will even think it has been deserted. Perhaps it will even track him down."

  "In such a case, I would not care to be him," said the man with the bandaged arm.

  "And if it does return here," said Fulvius, "we may pretend to deal with it, as he did."

  "You may deal with it," said the man with the bandaged arm. "I want nothing to do with it."

  "We need only watch our chance, and kill it. It is wounded. There are three of us."

  "Perhaps," shrugged the man with the bandaged arm.

  "But I do not think it will return," said Fulvius.

  "I hope not," said the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  "I did not know there were such things," said Callisthenes.

  "I did not either," said the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  "I will kill this fellow," said Fulvius. "Then we will go to the wagon, and see if we can find the other."

  Tupita again put her body between those of Fulvius and Mirus. Mirus was now sitting up, his head in his hands.

  "Kill him later," said the fellow with the bandaged arm. "It will soon be dark."

  "Very well," said Fulvius.

 
They then set out in the direction from which Callisthenes had come.

  It would have taken but a moment to thrust Tupita aside and kill Mirus, but I sensed that the man with the injured arm, again, had little taste for dispatching a helpless foe. Fulvius, perhaps more ruthless or practical in such matters, but a judicious tactician, had, I think, not wished to proceed at that time with an action which might bring about a disagreement or confrontation with his subordinate, one of whose sword he might shortly have need. Too, he could always kill Mirus later. He did not care, as I recalled, to leave enemies behind him.

  "Can you walk, Master?" begged Tupita, crouching near Mirus. "Can you run? They are gone! They will be coming back! Get up! Run! Flee!"

  Mirus looked over at me, his eyes glazed with pain.

  "Get up, Master!" begged Tupita. "I will help you!"

  She helped him to his feet. He stood, unsteadily. He looked at me.

  "Good, Master!" cried Tupita. "Lean on me! I will try to help you!"

  How strong Mirus must be, I thought, that he could even stand.

  "Hurry, Master," said Tupita. "Hurry!"

  But suddenly he moved his arm and flung her to the side.

  "Master!" she cried.

  He bent down, nearly fell, and picked up the blade which had fallen from the hand of the man who had been urged earlier by Fulvius to kill him, he whom Hendow had dropped, the blade with which he himself had been threatened.

  His eyes wild he staggered toward me, the blade lifted over his head, in two hands.

  I screamed.

  Tupita leaped to her feet and flung herself between us, shielding me with her own body.

  "Stupid slave!" cried Mirus. "Withdraw! Get out of the way!"

  "You are out of your head, Mirus!" she cried. "You are not the master I know. She is only a slave. Do not hurt her!"

  "She betrayed me!" he cried, the blade poised.

  "Hendow, your friend, loved her!" she cried. "He cared for her. He sought her! He saved your life! Will you now kill her with the very blade from which he saved you?"

  "She betrayed me!" he snarled.

  I was startled to hear her asseveration of Hendow's affection for me. He was so terrible, so fierce. Yet it seemed he had not in truth followed me to recapture me and punish me, visiting upon me the terrible severities to be suitably visited upon a runaway slave. I remembered how gently he had touched me on the side of the head. I wept, confused, startled, astonished, in wonder, considering his love. Had I been so blind to it? Yet I do not doubt that he would have kept me always, even in his love, as a helpless slave. He was that sort of man. Indeed, how could I, a woman, truly, fully, love any other sort?

  I saw he did not want to strike Tupita. Her beauty, so wild and pathetic, bare-breasted, in its collar and shreds of skirt, was between us.

  "I tried to warn you, Master," I wept. "I tried to withdraw! You would not let me. You would not listen! Masters were watching!"

  "What would you have had her do?" cried Tupita. "Do you not understand? We are slaves, slaves! What do you think her life would have been worth if she had not been successful in her work? If she had even been suspected in her work would this, too, not have been dangerous for her masters?"

  "Get out of the way!" he cried.

  "You are not yourself," she cried. "Do not kill her!"

  "Get out of the way," he cried, "or you will die first!"

  "Go, Tupita!" I wept. "Go, run!"

  "Move!" cried Mirus.

  "No," said Tupita, firmly. "If it is your will, so be it. I will die first."

  I saw the blade waver.

  "It is my desire to be pleasing to my master," she said.

  I saw the blade lower. Mirus stepped back.

  "By the love I bear you, if not the love you bear me," she said, "spare her."

  I saw Mirus look at me, with hatred. But he crouched down then, the point of the blade in the dirt, his hands on the guard, steadying himself with the weapon, almost as with a staff. "She may live," he said. Then he sobbed.

  "Oh, my master, I love you!" wept Tupita, rushing to him. "I love you! I love you!"

  "I have followed you, hunting for you, even from Brundisium," said Mirus. "I traveled from city to city. I took service here and there. But always I searched for you. I did not wish to live without you. I sought you even in Argentum."

  I recalled I had asked Mirus if he had been looking for me in Argentum. He had not been. He had claimed he was seeking service, and his fortune. I had been somewhat chagrined by this answer, that he had not been looking for me. I now realized that he had been seeking Tupita. Many Gorean men, in their vanity, will not admit to caring for slaves. Even the thought of it, it seems, would embarrass them. Who could care for a meaningless slut in a collar? Yet too often, for just such women, luscious and helpless, and in bondage, men are prepared to kill. Indeed, more than one war on Gor has been fought to recover a single slave. I should have realized that Mirus was after Tupita. Indeed, had I not still found him so attractive, and had I not, in my own vanity, been so concerned with my own possible beauty and desirability, rather than that of others, too, I might have understood that immediately. Certainly he had inquired closely after her. I had not been able to help him. Then he had fallen to the men of Tyrrhenius, later to be sold to the black chain of Ionicus.

  "Oh," cried Tupita, "I love you so! I love you so, my master!"

  Slave girls must address all free men as "Master." Commonly, however, the expression "my Master," when it is used, is reserved for the actual master of the girl, he who is her literal master, he who literally owns her. For example, when I was in Argentum it was proper for me to use the expression "Master" to the men of Tyrrhenius, and indeed, to all free men, but the expression, "my Master," if used, would have been appropriately, suitably, addressed only to Tyrrhenius. To be sure, sometimes a girl will use the expression "my Master" to a man who is not her literal master, to suggest to him that he is to her even as would be her literal owner. Sometimes that is done in an attempt to wheedle with the male, or flatter him. It can be dangerous, however, as it might, say, earn her a cuffing. He knows, of course, he is not her literal owner. As Tupita used the expression, though, in such a spontaneous, and heartfelt way, it expressed in its way, I think, a truth of her heart, that she in her heart belonged to him, that she in her heart was his slave.

  "Try to stand, Master," urged Tupita.

  But he crouched where he had, his hands on the guard of the sword, keeping himself upright with its aid.

  "Get up, Master," said Tupita. "Try to stand. Try! Please, Master! We must hurry away, before the men come back!"

  "It is too late!" cried Tela, fastened at the rail. I squirmed in my bonds, on the grass. I, too, like Tela, Mina and Cara, though I was not bound at the rail, was helpless.

  "Would that I could have brought him within the compass of my blade," said Fulvius.

  "Doubtless," said Callisthenes.

  "I regret we could not find him," said Fulvius.

  "Perhaps it is just as well," said Callisthenes.

  "He stole well away," said Fulvius, scornfully.

  "I trust that is true," said Callisthenes.

  "Do you doubt my blade?" inquired Fulvius.

  "It is a fine blade," said Callisthenes.

  "Perhaps he knows I am here," said Fulvius.

  "Perhaps," said Callisthenes.

  "He struck at the wagon, in my absence."

  "True."

  "He is a coward," said Fulvius.

  "Perhaps," said Callisthenes.

  "A simple brigand," said Fulvius.

  "Perhaps," said Callisthenes.

  Fulvius, and his two fellows, one wounded, were some feet from me, from where I knelt, bound hand and foot, wrists to ankles.

  They were looking about themselves, uneasily. Then it seemed they had satisfied themselves that things in the camp were much as they had left them.

  "Coffle the sluts," said Fulvius to Callisthenes. "We will take them to the wago
n." He then glanced at Mirus. "This fellow must be finished off," he said.

  "No!" cried Tupita.

  "He is on his feet," said the fellow with the bandaged arm.

  Mirus had struggled to his feet, holding the sword. "Get behind me," he said to Tupita.

  "Master!" she said.

  "Now," he said.

  She obeyed.

  "Ah, Sempronius," said Fulvius to the fellow with the bandaged arm, "look at this!" This was the first time I had heard the name of the man with the bandaged arm.

  "I see," said Sempronius.

  "There is no point now in your squeamishness," said Fulvius. "You see? There he is! He is up and ready, prepared for a fair and proper fight."

  "He can scarcely stand, he can scarcely hold his sword," said Sempronius.

  "Such upon occasion are the fortunes of war," said Fulvius.

  "Take the women, and let him go," said Sempronius.

  "You may not have this woman," said Mirus, indicating Tupita.

  "Let them take me away!" she begged.

  "No," he said.

  "I choose not to leave an enemy behind me," said Fulvius. "Do you gainsay me in this?"

  Fulvius, I suppose, if nothing else, understood that Mirus, if he survived, would be likely, sometime, to pursue them, perhaps for his honor, perhaps to recover Tupita, or me, perhaps to avenge Hendow.

  Sempronius shrugged. "You are first here," he said. "Your sword, if nothing else, makes you so."

  "I take it that you have no objection," said Fulvius, amused.

  "Why not more grievously endanger yourself, risking the perilous butchering of a tethered verr?" said Sempronius.

  "Do you have an objection of interest, one that might be taken seriously, one that might be lodged with steel?" asked Fulvius.

  "No," said Sempronius. "Your sword is first. You are first sword."

  "No!" said Tupita.

  "On guard, my friend," said Fulvius to Mirus. "And farewell."

  "No!" wept Tupita.

  "Back, slave!" said Sempronius. "Let him have at least the dignity of dying on his feet, with a sword in his hand."

  Mirus struggled to lift the blade. He held the hilt with both hands.

  "Look!" cried Tupita, pointing out, over the meadow, behind Fulvius and Sempronius. Callisthenes was to one side. He had delayed in releasing the girls from the rail, to coffle them, apparently choosing to postpone his work until the resolution of the pending affray with Mirus.