CHAPTER ONE
Cycle back: 1317 Barley, Summer Transformation week, in the tri-year following the death of Remigeus, in accordance with the Old Calendar (449 tri-years before the establishment of the Tri-National Calendar).
"The true master must listen to his slave."
The shout of laughter that greeted this remark rebounded off the stone walls of the receiving chamber and the ceiling-high gold doors that led to the winding stairwell. Enos, the first of the seated men to catch his breath, wiped his eyes with an embroidered handkerchief as he spluttered, "The slave actually said this to you?"
"Worse," replied Pentheus, handing his wine cup to the scar-faced slave beside him. "He said this to my brother, his own master. And he did so while staring bold-faced at my brother."
Sert gave a low whistle. Ledwin growled, "I trust the slave is dead. The last thing our landstead needs are perverts wandering about causing trouble."
Pentheus shrugged as he leaned back in the cushioned chair. "My brother judged that a beating was sufficient punishment, since it was a first offense. Truth to tell, I would say that the person who was most deserving of punishment was not the slave but my brother."
"That's a harsh comment, Pentheus," remarked Harmon as he put forward his hands to allow a slave to wipe them dry. "Surely perverseness can occur within any master's household."
"But the wise master does not allow such feelings to grow. I am convinced that most of the perverseness in our land occurs when masters fail to make sufficiently clear what sort of behavior they will abide. Many slaves who might otherwise fall into perverseness are saved in such a manner."
Ledwin snorted. "Perverts will be perverts, no matter what measures are taken early on. Besides, how far would you take this rule? If you were to don slave clothes tomorrow, is Celadon to blame?"
Another round of laughter rippled through the chamber. Smiling, Pentheus said, "I doubt that Celadon would allow the matter to grow that far."
"Allow what matter to grow that far?"
The voice came from the doorway, where the heavy golden doors were just being shut by the guards there. Harmon, who had already sighted the movement, had risen to his feet; the other seated men quickly followed.
The newcomer remained by the doors for a moment, surveying the chamber. He was in his mid-twenties, younger than any of the men who stood in a circle within the chamber, except for Sert, who had only just passed his twentieth summer. A gold sunburst surrounded by a dozen stars lay woven upon the breast of his long gown; otherwise, the newcomer looked much the same as the men who were standing, with his long hair swept back into a tie at the base of his neck, and a beard trimmed short. Unsmiling, he swung his gaze slowly about the chamber until it rested upon a tall stranger standing next to Sert.
He walked forward then, pausing only to lay his hand lightly upon the stubbly-haired head of the scar-faced slave, who had been in the midst of crossing the circle with cup tray in hand, and now was kneeling on the floor, his eyes cast down. The newcomer's gaze barely flicked down at the slave as he passed; then he had reached Sert and was saying, "You've brought a guest, I see."
"If it so please you, master." Sert gave an awkward bow. "This is Nellwyn, who is visiting my homestead this month. My father visited Nellwyn's home in Akbar many years ago, and now Nellwyn has come to see how people in the Dozen Landsteads live."
"I see." The newcomer's gaze travelled over the guest for a moment, as though he were making an assessment; then he said abruptly, "I welcome you to the Ninth Landstead, Master Nellwyn. Or are you addressed as Mastress?"
"Just Nellwyn will do." The woman's voice was soft and courteous. "And how shall I address you?"
Pentheus, who had been reaching forward to take a cup of water from a female slave, checked his motion; Ledwin gave a low growl. The newcomer, though, simply replied, "My name is Celadon. If you were to address me in the formal manner of my people, I doubt that your own High Master would be pleased."
Nellwyn looked as though she would speak, but cut her breath short and nodded. Celadon added, "I trust that you will be able to stay for the quarterly?"
"I am looking forward to it," said the Akbarian. "I have heard that there is no greater spectacle of ceremony and beauty than when the High Masters of the Dozen Landsteads meet to hold court. I was joyful when Sert told me that the quarterly meeting would be taking place at your landstead this time."
Celadon gave a grimace. "My slaves no doubt feel otherwise – all of us here have been overworked, preparing for the arrival of the other High Masters and the lesser masters. However, now that the lesser masters of the Ninth Landstead have arrived, perhaps it will be easier to finish the work." His gaze travelled back to the other standing men, lingering upon Pentheus.
"We and our homesteads are at your disposal, master," Pentheus replied. "You need only tell us what service you require of us."
Celadon nodded as he waved Pentheus into his seat. The other masters present seated themselves. The dozen slaves, who had been kneeling all this time with their heads bowed, looked up cautiously, then followed the lead of the scar-faced slave, who had just risen to his feet and was coming forward to offer wine to Celadon.
"What were you discussing when I arrived?" asked Celadon, taking the wine without looking at the slave.
"The insolence of my brother's slave," Pentheus said.
"Ah." Celadon spent a moment arranging himself upon the high-backed chair at the head of the chamber before he said, "He was quoting Remigeus, you know."
There was a long silence in the chamber, during which several of the stubbly-haired slaves could be seen exchanging glances. Then Enos said, astonishment coating his voice, "Surely not."
"The High Master is right!" It was Sert, leaning forward eagerly in his chair. "I've heard that this is one of Remigeus's uncollected sayings."
Ledwin glared at him. "You said nothing of this before."
Sert shrank back, as though he were a flower wilting. "I w-wasn't sure it was relevant."
"Sert thinks before he speaks, Ledwin," Pentheus said smoothly. "I know that is a characteristic you are unlikely to understand."
Ledwin snorted amidst the laughter. "Well, so Remigeus may have said this. What of it? I'm sure he didn't add, 'And if you should ever forget this, have your slave scold you.'"
"It could be said that any slave who did so was showing courage." Celadon's voice grew soft.
All eyes turned once more toward the man seated in the high-backed chair. Before anyone could speak, though, Celadon brushed away an offer of candied fruit from the female slave beside him and said, "In any case, that is a matter for speculation. How did this topic arise?"
Pentheus said in an even voice, "We were discussing whether it was a violation of a master's duties for him to take a bed-slave."
There was another small silence. Sert had his eyes fixed upon Celadon; without seeming to be aware of it, he had begun chewing upon one of his thumbnails. Ledwin, oblivious to the quiet, said flatly, "It's rape. To order a slave to scrub your floors is one thing; to order the slave to open his or her hole to you is quite another. Why do you think Remigeus declared that only the daughters of masters may be married by other masters? It was to prevent the ravishing of female slaves. And to deprive a male slave of his dignity is even more appalling. No true master would— Sert, what the devil do you think you're doing, waving your hand in my face?"
Sert, having given up signalling Ledwin by subtle means, pointed to one of the slaves. For a moment, Ledwin's face remained blank; then he gave a choking cough and looked swiftly toward the man in the high-backed chair.
Celadon was not smiling. This was of no significance in itself – the High Master of the Ninth Landstead rarely shared his smiles. Still, even Pentheus could be seen holding his breath, while Sert was frankly staring at the dagger at Celadon's hip. Then Celadon broke the tension by saying, "I agree with you, Ledwin."
Ledwin blinked rapidly several times. "You do?" he said cautiously.
&nb
sp; Celadon nodded; though his voice was relaxed, his hands were tight about the stem of his cup. "Forgive me if I offend you, Pentheus, but I do believe that in cases such as that of your brother, where the slave is given no choice as to whether to be bedded, the slave has reason to feel ill-used. It is something that the High Masters have discussed, whether there is sufficient warrant from Remigeus's writings to permit the outlawing of bed-slaves. My own view is that such beddings should be permitted only in cases where it is clear that the slave consents to the relationship."
"You do not offend me, master," said Pentheus. "If it were in my hands, I would go further than you and outlaw all bedding of slaves. Why allow it in certain cases, but not in others?"
Suddenly a smile was upon Celadon's lips. "I'm not sure that you are the best person to judge this, Pentheus. You had a choice whether to bed a slave or one who was not a slave."
Pentheus chuckled softly. "I concede your point, as would my wife. But I will put another point to you: the laws of the Dozen Landsteads do not forbid a master from bedding another master."
"Are you making me an offer?" Enos asked in the sweet voice of innocence. "Truly, Pentheus, I am flattered, but—"
The remainder of his words were lost in the clamor of laughter that followed. When Pentheus could finally be heard again, he said, "Would that be any more strange than a slave bedding a slave, which happens daily? But no, what I had in mind was a master bedding a master who is lesser in rank. Why doesn't that happen more often? Why must we turn to slaves for our enjoyment?"
"That's a good question," said Celadon. "Harmon, can you answer that? You took a bed-slave earlier this year, I believe."
Harmon spread his hands wide. "Master, what can I say? It's true that I have dozens of other lesser masters under my command, and I suspect that most of them would be willing to share my bed with me if they thought it would give me pleasure – such is their loyalty. But I doubt I would receive as much enjoyment from such an encounter as I have received from the slave I chose. Pentheus, you've said it yourself in the past – that the deepest pleasure of a true master comes from protecting and guiding those who need most to be mastered, the slaves. It's no different in the bed than outside it."
Pentheus frowned. "But surely the highest duty of a master lies in giving a slave that which he requires, not in satisfying his own desires at the expense of the slave."
"Pentheus, Harmon has just said that a master receives greatest pleasure in protecting and guiding a slave." Celadon's voice was quiet again. "He was quoting you, and you were in turn quoting Remigeus. What does Remigeus say the greatest pleasure is of a true slave?"
Pentheus emitted a long sigh. "To give service. But sexual service?"
"Why not?" said Enos, his brows creased as he concentrated on the conversation. "I must admit, Celadon, that I had not thought of the matter in that light – perhaps I have been thinking of slaves' sexuality as something separate from the rest of their lives. Yet surely if they receive pleasure from serving their masters, that pleasure would turn their sexual desires toward their masters."
"I'm n-not sure that's always the case," Sert ventured.
"No, I doubt it's always the case," Celadon agreed. "But in the cases where it is true, I think it would be cruel to the slave to deny him that which would give him such great joy."
"Of course, it's easy enough for you to decide such matters, without consulting the slaves."
The words were soft and hollow through the room. In the momentary pause as everyone turned to look at the Akbarian, no sound could be heard, for the High Master's receiving chamber was located in a tower far above the rest of the castle, and the windows were beyond the torchlight of the courtyard. It would therefore have been exceedingly dark in the room, but candles lit by the slaves shimmered from every table and shelf and wall nook, casting perpetually shifting light upon the participants in the conversation. The slaves scurried about the dark corners of the chamber, bringing out food and drink as needed by the masters.
The tall woman appeared to have spoken spontaneously; now, faced with the puzzled or hostile expressions of the masters, she centered her attention upon the High Master, who once again looked grave-faced. "I apologize," she said quietly. "I ought not to cast judgment upon the behavior of people with traditions different from my own."
"How else are we to learn from people in other lands?" Celadon responded. "My duties have never permitted me to travel beyond the Dozen Landsteads' borders, and I am not one of the High Masters who deals with foreign affairs, so I am much in need of training on the ways of other lands." There was the faintest smile at the corner of his lips as Celadon spoke this bit of exaggerated self-abasement. "Is it our custom of men loving men that you object to? I know that this is not practiced in some other lands."
Nellwyn shook her head; her hands were motionless upon her dark travelling gown. "Such love is not unknown in my land; my own brother has a male lover. What is . . . strange to me is slavery."
Enos broke the silence by saying incredulously, "You have no masters in your land?"
Nellwyn murmured something to a slave offering her candied fruit, then turned her eyes toward the master who had spoken. "We are all masters in Akbar."
"That's impossible," Ledwin said flatly. "A master cannot exist without a slave. Remigeus says so."
The other lesser masters nodded. Celadon was now leaning forward, interest written upon his face, but he made no comment.
"We are taught in my land that it is shameful to receive without giving or to give without receiving," Nellwyn replied. "To act as you have – to divide the land into those who receive and those who give – would not be accepted among my people."
It was Sert who finally said, with the brightness of a man who has figured out a puzzle, "You are all lesser masters! You serve, and you are served!"
Nellwyn shrugged. "You can phrase it that way if you like. So far in this visit, I am more inclined to identify myself with the slaves than with any of the men who have taken away their rights."
At this, Ledwin growled loudly and was heard to whisper, "Pervert." Even Pentheus looked angry. Sert looked upon Nellwyn with wonderment, as though he had not known he was bringing a dangerous creature into this chamber.
Celadon, though, did not speak or move. His gaze travelled around the chamber until it rested upon the scar-faced slave, who was consulting with one of the other slaves over the removal of the cups from the chamber. The slave's gaze was carefully cast away from the masters, as were the gazes of all the slaves, yet when Celadon gave a slight gesture, the scar-faced slave responded immediately, coming to kneel at Celadon's feet. With his gaze fixed upon the floor and his voice low, he asked, "What service do you require of me, master?"
Celadon's hand brushed lightly over the slave's cropped hair as he said, "None at the moment, Brun. Thank you."
The slave withdrew without looking up. Celadon switched his gaze to the Akbarian, who was not succeeding in hiding her expression of distaste. Then the High Master looked over at Pentheus, who immediately began to rise from his place.
Celadon shook his head, waving the older man back into his seat. "No demonstration is necessary. You need only tell me: When I call you forth at the quarterly to have you present your report before the High Masters, what will you do?"
Having reseated himself, Pentheus laid his hands one over the other, in a calm fashion. "I will kneel and ask what service you require of me, master."
Celadon looked at Nellwyn and waited. She said, her voice brittle, "I see. You are trying to tell me that everyone in this land is a slave, aside from you and the other High Masters. Is this knowledge meant to reassure me?"
Celadon's fingers tightened upon the stem of his cup, but there was no other sign of his tension as he said, "I'm trying to explain that every land has a history, and what may seem barbarity to one people will seem the heights of civilization to a people who has known far worse. In the old days of the Dozen Landsteads – centuries ago –
matters were exactly as you have described them. All power was held in the hands of a dozen men who enslaved the men under their care, using the more treacherous of their slaves to control the rest. That was indeed a time of barbarity, when masters cared nothing for their slaves, and slaves invariably feared and hated their masters."
"And this . . . civilization that you speak of? Which master brought it into being?"
Celadon smiled then, and the grip on his cup loosened. "No master invented our laws, honored guest. The division of master and slave that you see before you was invented by a slave."
Master and Servant (Waterman) Page 13